Natural with a Gun
by Silverwing013
Summary: His father praised him his first time out shooting, calling Dean a natural. His father had been told from Bobby that Dean had a knack for tinkering with mechanical items. Great, since a hunter's life needed guns. Except, Dean wasn't a natural, he was a natural. With magic. A natural...with a wand?
1. Handed the Gun

Dean knew better than to say it was like magic to his father, joke or not. Especially the not. Any magic his father had seen or heard from other hunters was in deals with demons. But if Dean had to say anything about learning to shoot with a gun, those would be his words. Like magic.

Sam did not know better.

Uncle Bobby was knowledgeable enough to break it to Sam that their father would not appreciate such talk. Then he stopped at the library for books to fuel Sam's imagination, then drove them to the park and took out a baseball for Dean.

* * *

Bobby knew there was something special about John's boys and he loved them something fierce. When he found Dean tinkering with anything mechanical, he looked forward to seeing how it would work put back together by the boy. Dean had a knack, this is what he told John.

Sam loved to run up and show off his older brother's handiwork.

Dean would duck his head and shrug his shoulder, but Bobby saw how the modest boy smiled at the praise. Sam and Bobby always went out of their way to make a big deal out of the boy's talent, over the top since John never did. The mechanical wizard.

* * *

Sam knew his father did not like fantasy or things other children believed in. But that was okay. Sam would discover and believe in all those things twice as much for his father.

Uncle Bobby regarded imagination highly, gifting him with many stories to read. Uncle Bobby and Dean always had a listening ear as Sam tore through book after book.

His big brother Dean was his greatest belief. Dean was everything to Sam. His brother. His teacher. His best friend. His protector. His Santa Clause. His hero. The top of his 'take care of' list when praying to angels. Dean could and would do anything for Sam, a real magician.

* * *

Dean had figured this would happen. Uncle Bobby had hoped it wouldn't for the target of this anger. But Sam had gone quiet when he realized as the day went on that their father was not showing for Dean's birthday.

Reasons from Dean no longer rang a bit of truth for Sam when it came to reasons about their father.

Excuses.

* * *

Sam tapped the window irritably, his face already set into a glare for their father missing Dean's birthday two days ago. Uncle Bobby had set a book next to Sam earlier before sitting down to read his own. Dean was currently invested in the dismantling of three different phones on the carpet, putting pieces back into the black one and then checking on Sam and Uncle Bobby near the window.

Dean frowned. He did not like the idea of his father being yelled at after this worryingly long job.

A regal owl tapped back at Sam on the other side of the window, a letter clutched in its claw. All three dropped their mouths at it. The owl titled its head, hooted, and then tapped again.

* * *

Dean immediately shook his head after reading the letter, beseeching to Uncle Bobby he had made no deals. Uncle Bobby read the invitation, his brow furrowed as he went on to the attached pamphlet that detailed history and differences between demon born false and natural born true wizards. Sam jumped up and grabbed a hold of the first page, his eyes lighting up at the invitation.

The destination of the invitation was then spotted and little Sam slumped.

It was Sam though that wrote the response asking for a representative to be sent, convinced his big brother shouldn't throw such a fantastical opportunity away.

* * *

John was not happy when he returned. More specifically, when he discovered the stern faced English woman was not only informative on supernatural types across the pond, but that she was one herself. A witch. A betrayal of trust so high from Bobby, John was beet red hysterical.

Bobby the betrayer should know better than to attempt to talk him down and accept this witch. Sam was young and shielded from the life, but shouted at how cool it was. John blamed Bobby further, calling out the other man for telling such stories. It was Dean, who strove hard to follow the family rules set by John, who managed to silence his father.

Dean pushed his way to the front, small arms wide protective and shaking.

"And what if I'm one?"

"What?"

"A...a natural born wizard!"

"Don't be stupid Dean, there is no-"

"I'm a natural born wizard dad!"

Sam huddled close beside his older brother, taking a hold of one of the trembling arms, winding himself around it.

"Is this your idea of a prank? Protecting _Uncle Bobby_ from introducing you to this _witch_? We're leaving. Come're Sammy."

"NO!"

Bobby jumped with John as they heard a gun go off from Bobby's desk, a hole in the side and next to the window. Bobby was willing to bet it was the same one Dean normally practiced with and broke down and fiddled with. Sam buried himself farther into his brother's protective arms, puppy eyes narrowed up at his father.

"What," Dean started and then cleared his throat. "What are you going to do if I am?"

John lost his words then, grabbing a table for support. Bobby smirked.

"Nice to see you at a loss for words Winchester."

John scowled.

"This was not how we hoped to break it to you Mr. Winchester. Mr. Singer has told me of what sorts of business you and he work in. Away from tiny ears," the English woman assured at his alarmed face. Sam perked up from Dean's arms, curious at what sort of traveling business his father did besides the typical family answer of selling items. "Why don't you take a seat Mr. Winchester and I will answer all of your questions, much as I have for them and their uncle."


	2. Round One

Dean tucked the pop can tab into the hole he cut in the inside of his worn out backpack and shook his head to clear it. Even after multiple times, he never could get used to this portkey the headmaster created specifically for him. He tapped the ground with his feet, glad for the solidness of it as he stashed his wand into the holster he had handmade onto his back. Safest way to carry the thing and not have anyone getting to it, at least for the time being.

Sam was always digging through his backpack in taking long looks through the sixth grade textbooks. Nevermind his own schoolwork. Dean grinned, proud of how well his little brother did in blowing the other tiny second graders out of the water.

He walked around the backside of the motel, where the portkey had dropped him off this time out of sight and spotted Sam already bouncing on the heels of his feet next to the Impala. His brother's whole face lit up when he saw Dean. Fighting back the yawn from lack of sleep, Dean ruffled Sam's hair as they got into the car so their father could drive them to school. Forget the nap he needed before heading back to Hogwarts, Dean was going to spend this after school with his little brother. Besides, it wasn't as though either kind of history class he took really mattered.

* * *

Sam woke up once when his brother did in the middle of the night. It was rare, as he normally slept through noise pretty well. So he quickly poked his head up to see Dean scratch at his back with a long stick. Sam grinned to himself. He had wondered if his brother had a wand and if so where he kept it.

Dean laced up his shoes and Sam quickly laid his head back down when he saw Dean was going to look over his shoulder at him.

Next thing Sam knew was the sound of the bathroom door shutting and he waited in the darkness. And waited. There was an odd popping sound, but the light didn't go on and he thought it might have been a cabinet door. Sam waited longer and then finally went to the door, knocking quietly and whispering in the dark. When he opened the bathroom door and turned on the light, Sam was disappointed to find the mystery of how Dean got to the witch owl school would continue.

* * *

Uncle Bobby stared, fascinated, and Dean beamed at being able to surprise the older man. Sam sat next to his older brother, just as enthralled.

So Dean continued on about the ghosts of wizards and spinning the tale and woes of Nearly Headless Nick for their amusement.

He couldn't wait to see their faces when he told them what one of the seventh year girls could do from his house at Hogwarts.

* * *

Anthony was finally the one at either school to corner Dean. Well, schools, seeing how they moved around so much in America. Honestly, Dean was hoping his oddity of being the only American here would shield him from awkward questions. It had for the most part. Such as why he had such a hard time relaxing around the ghosts here. He was weird, the American. Spent a vested interest in looking up all sorts of creatures. He was weird, the American. His proclivity to get devices working better around magic. Just the weird American.

At least Anthony had the sense to catch Dean alone when he asked. It didn't hurt that the boy was the closest thing to a friend Dean had ever had in his life so far.

It wasn't as though it was or needed to be a huge secret, but Dean had always been protective when it dealt with his little brother. So after a little bit of hedging, Dean told Anthony where he always disappeared to as soon as classes were over at Hogwarts. Back to America. Back to Sam and his father. As had been the deal made when he decided to accept attending here. Portkey that only worked with two 'locations'. Sammy and Hogwarts. Sammy first, Sammy was always first. He always took care of Sam.

* * *

John liked to pretend the other life for Dean did not matter. He didn't like it. The supernatural world was one he wanted to protect his sons from and teach them about how to protect themselves, not integrate them into it. Dean had already began shooting and being shown a few things. He couldn't ask for Dean to be a better big brother for Sam. Except how to protect better.

Keeping Sam from learning about the dark side of supernatural was something John never had to ask of Dean. Sam was the baby of them, both John and his eldest treated him as such. Being a natural born...a natural born wizard meant that Dean only told tales with no real danger. Unlike all the ones John or other hunters here ran into with the demon deals for witchcraft. The real danger was if Sam treated all supernatural creatures as if they were no danger when he finally learned of John's real job.

He realized it was awfully quiet and got up to look for his sons. It didn't take too long to discover the pair huddled together in the backseat of the Impala. Then he saw the brown mutt laying on the seat with thick orange stuff on its rear leg.

"Boys." They jumped, both looking guilty as they saw him. "What are you doing?"

"I asked Dean to," Sam pipped up in defense of his older brother. "Can...can we keep him?"

"No. Do what?" Dean was acting shifty, not looking John directly in his eyes. John fixed him with a stare. "Dean."

His eldest sat up straight and finally looked him in the eye. "Yes sir?"

"What are you doing to that dog?"

"Sam found it and wanted to help the dog. It's leg was burnt, so I'm putting burn healing paste on its leg. I learned how to make it from...Madam Pomfrey...the school nurse." Dean's head was tilting down as he hunched his shoulders up, but kept his eyes on his father. "I thought...I thought it might come in handy. For...you know?"

Stunned at the forethought, John stared at Dean for a moment.

"Good idea," John said gruffly. His eldest's eyes went wide eyed in surprise, the smallest of smiles threatening to show at the unexpected praise. "Keep him for the weekend and show me the progress of its improvement."

Sam was smiling and bouncing too much for John not to see what the youngest was hoping.

"Just for the weekend boys."

Sam slouched, but still smiled broadly at a dog being allowed. "Thanks dad!"


	3. Round Two

Sam failed to understand why his brother spent most of the summer tearing through old radios Uncle Bobby gave him. He was patient and would watch for a while, but it became boring very quickly. Dean always put his radio project to the side whenever Sam asked to play. It was great to know Dean would always be there, but Sam did not like to ask and bother his brother right away. Besides, his brother thought it was funny when Sam poked at it in hopes of it doing magic since his brother was still the mechanical wizard. That was an actual wizard wizard.

Then Dean would distract him with promises of kicking around a soccer ball.

Uncle Bobby raised his eyebrow after asking to see the finished radio. The blue light signified it was on, but no batteries and no plug. The preteen raised up his finger to his ear. Putting the speaker closer to his ear, he could faintly hear the sound of a heartbeat being emitted. Then, smirking, Dean reached back and gave his back a smack. Uncle Bobby jumped in surprise by the fact the sound came through the speakers. The boy pulled his collar down a little to let Uncle Bobby see the top bit of his wand strapped to his back. His eyes went wide, realizing Dean had made his own version of a microphone and speaker that was powered by magic. That was worth something huge, far greater than Dean's notions of trying to get the sounds of Meatloaf to play at his magic school by next year.

* * *

Dean failed to understand exactly why everyone was going bonkers over one of the new first years. Anthony explained for him and it sounded like a far fetched story, even for here where bits of stick broke natural laws. Hard to take much of science seriously, especially as one included what his father taught him.

If the only survivor was a one year old, who came up with this over the top story? Anthony shrugged at that and asked Dean what he did that summer with Sam.

Proud, Dean went into detail of how he convinced Uncle Bobby to sign them up for a small town soccer league since he saw Sam interested by the woman's world cup being shown on the television. One of the new first year boys interrupted to pompously inform Dean it was called football and he was no good brother if he didn't know what sport Sammy played. Anthony snickered at the kid who just earned a shove off the bench. Only Dean could call him Sammy. And Dean was a protective brother hen over his little brother.

* * *

As the headcount came in short for their house, Anthony slammed a hand to his head as he realized who was missing. His American friend was like a miniature, but mechanical savvy, Hagrid. The boy had been flitting back and forth to Sam with the feast food since his brother disliked the traditional Halloween, determined to still make it a good holiday. But Anthony doubted Sam was top priority with what just occurred.

Racing out of his house, he ignored the prefects' shouts and swallowed as he heard a roar. Anthony hurried, concerned about Dean's well being and confused on where to go next when the roaring stopped.

The headmaster and deputy spotted him, and Anthony had to explain why he had left the safety of the dormitories. It only really took one word to explain. If it were possible to blow steam out one's nose, Anthony was sure Professor McGonagall could have when they reached the girls' third floor bathroom. Professor Quirrell sat on a toilet appearing close to fainting as Professor Snape's voice bellowed and echoed harshly off the bathroom walls. Unconcerned, Dean clambered over the unconscious mountain troll, full blown excitement in his green eyes, cheekily peppering question after question to their Potions professor.

* * *

Bobby grinned and admired what an embarrassed Dean brought to him between the two schools. John could call it a knack, but apparently, Dean was the first person from the natural wizard and witch world to make something like his radio.

The headmaster seemed just as amused as Bobby was by the music Dean had blasted in his house common room.

There was also an attached contract for Dean's radio tweaking to become official through a businessman. A legitimate form of money possible for one of the Winchesters. It came as no surprise to Bobby that Dean wanted little of it. The boy would rather it be split up with a portion given to his father for hunting, Bobby for his cars, and most of it to Sammy for school.

* * *

A first year with bushy hair and buck teeth had Dean's day filled with a bounce in his step. He hadn't been feeling the best since his father found out about breaking the news of his real job to Sam, but the random girl noticing the gift and commenting on it raised him back up. It had been a delightful surprise as none of the first years had spoken up to the weird American until then.

The rest of his housemates heading to class with Dean laughed at him, as they all knew of how much pride he had for his little brother.

Dean decided he quite liked the inquisitive first year, speculating to him on what deity the amulet headpiece could represent. It was such a Sam thing. So he asked for her name, determined to remember the bold and curious little girl.

* * *

The entire house breathed a sigh of relief at discovering four young first years had detention, the rumor mill already circulating. Sure, it put their house up with the amount of points taken, but at least they kept from one of their own jumping into the mix.

Then a certain second year clomped over to their table for breakfast, fixing his robes over a flannel shirt and the whole group tensed up. Dean blinked, confused.

His sights zeroed in onto an unfortunate and nameless first year, sat next to her, and casually took an apple from the table. She nervously played with her blonde hair, looking away from him, and then peeked back.

"Wanna tell me what's with the freak out when I came in?"

"No," she whispered and then shook her head.

He caught her glance to a certain dorm mate of his. He narrowed his eyes at Anthony. The other boy shrugged. "Hagrid came to me a few days ago, looking for you."

Dean perked up at the mention of the huge gamekeeper. The man was one of the weirdest he met, but had the love of exciting magical creatures like an old woman had for cats. "Yeah?"

Much of the table shouted then. Dean grinned. It was bound to be something good with that reaction.

"Eh. Doesn't matter now," Anthony said. He smirked at Dean and Dean's hope diminished. "Hagrid wanted to show you his baby Norwegian Ridgeback."

It took a moment for him to process that one.

"A DRAGON!"

People in the Great Hall looked over to see the disturbance, many going back to their meals once they found the cause.

"It's gone now," Anthony said calmly as he buttered his bread. "And isn't that the point? A dragon, Dean. A dragon."

Dean sputtered.

"Yes! A real live dragon!" He was beside himself. He had missed out on a dragon. "A real fire breathing, rescue the damsel in distress, legit dragon! And you made sure I missed it?"

"It's not a healthy interest Dean," said one of the prefects. "Hagrid has an advantage in dealing with the more dangerous creatures, but even he can be injured. We did it for you. Your sense of preservation is-"

"A dragon," Dean practically wailed as he flopped back onto the bench from his outburst.

"You said the same thing about ghosts, freaking out for a good month of first year," commented another dorm mate.

"Trying to get to the giant squid."

"Pissing off the mermaids in the lake too."

"Or taking out that bowtruckle to study during Potions."

"Chasing toward that mountain troll."

"Checking out the cage of Cornish Pixies before we were given directions."

"I'm never letting you borrow a hair pin ever again," a brunette girl sniffed.

"But," Dean stuttered. No one at the table appeared to care about what they did to him. "A dragon!"


	4. Round Three

Dean thought it was like he had his own case. He had no idea how his father and Uncle Bobby did this kind of work all the time. It was scary and nerve wracking. Especially as neither of them knew about the true meaning of Dean's researching. It all had to be done on the sly.

The case and any help Dean could offer would go up in smoke if they had any notion of their being a creature loose paralyzing students at his school.

It wasn't as though it had killed anyone yet, Dean reasoned as he flipped through another of Uncle Bobby's books. Perfect for him. The creature could hardly be dangerous if its track record was multiple paralysis and one that was completely curable. That one single death from fifty years ago was probably just a fluke. Nothing really concerning. Otherwise the headmaster would close the school if it were.

* * *

Dean loved running into the bold and curious girl inside the library. She either disliked him for interrupting her studies or he could get her running off on current monster theories. Sometimes, she had her two friends dragged in there as well. He had gotten to know their names as a result, but enjoyed messing with Hermione in constantly calling them incorrectly.

It wasn't those two that made his day last year in noticing Sam's Christmas gift strung about his neck, it was her.

Since Dean could hardly use Sam's head for smarts as his brother would more than likely freak out over his safety, Dean had been teaming up with her. The lists of possible creatures they had should be growing shorter, but she kept going back to double check with every possible thing she thought could be a clue. The girl was more thorough than Sam. So Dean kept throwing things at her that he found from Uncle Bobby's library, knowing she would be annoyed but scour the school library with fresh vigor. Covering both supernatural and magical kinds.

* * *

Sam sat stiffly, his hand shaking. The .45 felt wrong and heavy and he was sure it was useless to him anyway. In a rare moment, he had woken up in the middle of the night at a noise, immediately going through the mental list that was still growing and twisting. So much more things he was discovering which could actually hurt him. Bump in the nights became sharply real.

Dean had not been there as it was a school day for him, so Sam had gone to his father.

Sam had not slept all night, waiting for Dean to return. In sudden relief, he cried out his brother's name when he heard a popping noise. Dean burst out of the bathroom and skidded around the bed, with eyes that focused first on Sam and then around him for any danger. Sam leapt off the bed and hugged his big brother tightly. At the end of his story, Dean used profanity and then promised he would never leave Sam defenseless nor with weapons he could not use. His brother dug out a manual for gun basics and said he'd teach Sam. This set Sam's nerves at ease more than his father's offhand giveaway and he gave another hug, a tight hug, so that Dean knew.

* * *

Dean tromped his way over to the hut at the edge of the forest after Care of Magical Creatures. The rest of his house had quickly decided against joining him talking with Hagrid and trudging through the snow twice. He thought it was funny how it was the extra bit of hard work was what decided it for them. Weenies.

Hagrid met Dean just as he made it up to knock the door, ranting over the dead rooster he held.

He beamed at Dean, quickly welcoming him inside and asked what kind of creature he studied for class that day. In the midst of all their usual excitement, Dean realized Hagrid was the perfect guy to ask in speculating what could be the one creating drama inside the castle. After Hagrid's story, it stunned Dean to realize how little the people fifty years ago cared about fixing this issue then, preferring to blame Hagrid and his pet spider. Except he later realized what the large gamemaster could probably think of as a pet spider may be different than a typical tarantula.

* * *

Sam glared at his older brother, lip jutted out. Dean still did not seem willing to share what he was searching for in the library books. Greek and Roman mythology books were piled up at the table. Sam had pestered the past few weeks over what his brother had spent practically all year distracted with instead of his usual tinkering. Perhaps time assisted him in his perseverance, because Dean finally broke down and handed Sam a tiny piece of paper.

Sam paused when he saw it had something to do with a creature.

It was still hitting him just all of what was possibly real even a year after Dean told him their father's real job. But he squared his shoulders and marched over to ask for computer and Internet usage from the librarian. Dean eye rolled at that, not as much of a fan of the technology yet and claimed he could flip through books faster than the Internet could load a page. Still, Dean joined him as Sam did searches through the Internet by Veronica and grabbed Sam's hand to stop scrolling. Sam grinned toothily at a wide eyed Dean and his brother demanded he print that page.

* * *

Dean rushed to his backpack when he finally managed a moment alone. He pulled out the pop can tab and used it. Thankfully, the landing was near the school library. He swallowed any possible bodily reaction to the horrid flying sensation and hurried in to double check for the creature he thought it could be. If it was, then the paralyzed victims were luckier than he had thought. Dean hadn't really thought it was something really dangerous after all this time.

He scanned for the right book, pulled it down, and went pale.

Slytherin mascot of snake and roosters and paralyzing others, it all fit. Another student had noticed him and came over to him. Mutely, Dean showed Hermione what the open book had written on it. She gapped, mouth wide and frightened eyes. He tore the page out, which got a vocal reaction, and gave it to her before running off to return to Sam who was probably pounding on the bathroom he had used to get away without notice.

* * *

Anthony blinked blearily at Dean, still tired from events the night before. He was puzzled on why Dean was insistent he get up for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Did Dean not know about it being cancelled? How did he not know with how late the school was up last—of course he didn't!

He shot up and fell out of his bed onto the floor. Dean laughed at him.

The rest of the boys in their dorm poked their heads out of their own beds, amused, but retreated back into them. Anthony was somewhere between a yawn and a yarn from beneath the pain. He sat back up and told Dean about the late night feast of celebrations, the tales told of what all happened, since his friend had been keen to solve the school's monster problem.

"That little bedhead friend of Hermione's saved the school from the basilisk instead of an experienced professor? Panner?"

Anthony snorted. Used to the name error, he automatically corrected that quirk of his friend. "Potter, yes. Him and Ron Weasley went into the Chamber of Secrets, which apparently you have to speak snake to get into."

"That's lame. Oh! That's why Hermione said something about Platter hearing things and added pipes onto that basilisk page!"

"Potter. Huh, so that's how those second years knew what kind of monster it was," Anthony mused. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Dean frowned. "Because Hermione did? And I figured they were taking care of it. Besides, anytime I mention creatures around here, everyone freaks out."

"Ha. For good reason around you Dean," Anthony retorted dryly. "You always go seeking them out and causing trouble. And Hagrid's no better, treating the most dangerous of them like cuddly puppies, telling you all about his pets and the ones he comes across in the forest. I'm your friend Dean, but this particular quirk and fascination of yours is going to be—what?"

Dean grinned wickedly.

"Hey Anthony, did you know that the forbidden forest has an acromantula colony?" Anthony paled and shook his head at him. "Hagrid's pet thought to be the original monster fifty years ago. I missed the actual one but—"

"NO!" All the boys in the dorm screamed.


	5. Round Four

Sam bounced on the bed and promised his big brother that he would be fine. After dad giving him the gun, he had found he was waking easier at weird noises. While it had been okay this summer, Dean may not be there when he woke up in the night. His other school was starting up again. Sam preferred knowing to not knowing and freaking out, so Dean would tell him about different supernatural creatures in a sort of big kid bedtime story.

He reminded Dean of the book swiped from Uncle Bobby's shelf, just for this purpose if Dean wasn't there if he woke that night. Or any night Dean was at school.

While it was certainly far more fantasy, Sam laid on the bed with his feet swinging and asked Dean what it was like. His brother frowned a bit, confused. Dean had told him many stories about his time at the school they didn't share, but Sam wanted to hear more. After all, he would be the correct age to start going with Dean next year. Dean's face brightened at that and he launched into a description of a game played on broomsticks. It sounded wonderful.

* * *

Dean stopped when he heard his name on his way to his Runes class. The few others in his year taking the class waited a short distance away. He was sure the older boy was on their house team with Anthony, but Dean wasn't sure of the name. Too many faces and names had already gone past him for too many years. Even here where he had been around for a few years, names were not worth grasping for if he didn't see them regularly in class. Dean was pretty sure the other had made team captain this year even if he couldn't remember his name.

He smiled easily and congratulated Dean for his success on his invention from second year, then waved and headed off to his class with the upper years.

Talk changed for the rest of the way to class. His yearmates did the same as the fifth year boy did, praising Dean. He shook it off at first, but then realized they really were impressed with his mechanical skills. They had a point. His invention of a wireless radio by magic and wand was really taking off, useful and appreciated and not something anyone could do. Sam and Uncle Bobby always went out of their way to praise Dean, but he was used to anything he did being typically ignored by his dad and strings of endless teachers and students. It filled up Dean's chest as he listened to his yearmates and he strutted proudly, beaming.

* * *

Anthony frowned and watched as Dean straightened, preparing himself, then marched up to the new professor. He glanced back and waved off the rest of their house. His American friend could be tight lipped about certain personal things, this might be one of them. Anthony doubted Dean wanted an audience on why he hadn't been allowed to tackle the boggart, tackle his fear head on.

The professor paused, staring long and thoughtful at Dean before he set down his papers and cleared his throat.

Dean made a noise, Anthony was surprised at his friend's surprise. The professor said he'd been told about what Dean's father did for a living and thought it best for Dean to avoid the boggart, for the best of the class. Anthony wondered what the professor meant by the fact there was a difference between supernatural and magical creatures, but cautiously looked over to Dean at the mention of his dad. Dean had gotten over his surprise by then to scowl and he snarled that he wasn't his father and didn't want to do what his dad did for a living. Worried, Anthony chased after Dean as he stormed out of the classroom.

* * *

Sam appeared awed at Dean's retelling of a class, incensed over the actions of a professor in trying to destroy the other. If the headmaster was aware and there was a cure for the magical werewolf during transformations, unlike the supernatural kind, it was definitely a bad grudge. The professor had even taken points from Dean when his brother left the classroom.

Sam normally wouldn't approve of this typically, but agreed the class would have been a useless one being taught by a substitute out on a personal vendetta.

Dean cracked up laughing at that. Sam scowled. There was nothing wrong about school and learning things, they could be useful and interesting. His older brother laughed even harder. Sam turned to Uncle Bobby, who had been listening to the retelling as well, hoping for some support. Except Uncle Bobby was cracking a smile. So Sam threw a heavy book at his brother to prove how useful it was.

* * *

The bushy haired girl beamed at Dean and began spouting off several titles. Expecting this, Dean fished out a notebook and a pen for her to write them onto instead of him committing the books to memory. Hermione marveled at the objects and then told him off about school rules, as always.

Dean wondered when anyone would inform her of magic.

Notebook paper to parchment was easily done by many here. He had to work a little harder at that line of magic, but it was still doable. Which, Hermione seemed to either honestly or conveniently forget every time she gave him the parchment speech.

"I definitely would definitely get your brother _Hogwarts: A History_. That's top of the list for sure. He'll have regular coursework to find out more of the magical world, but let's start him off with where he will be starting. I have my copy I can lend you over the summer if you need it Dean."

"That'd be cool actually. I didn't say it before but, I'm glad you look better since dropping Divination."

Hermione rolled her eyes, actually rolled her eyes. "Oh, that class is useless! All they do is make up things. I can't believe Ron and Harry kept it. I'm so glad I dropped it."

"Oye Hermione, we're just over here," spoke up the red haired boy at the library table. He was currently hunched over his piece of parchment, scribbling things down quickly before class. "Hey Harry. Think Trelawney will believe it if I put down an unexpected person will turn on me?"

"Probably." The messy haired boy kept his focus on flipping through the textbook for something. "As long as you don't get specific or put me down mate. With all her gloom and doom with predicting my death, I'm going to keep mine positive. A dreaded day will turn out far better than I thought."

"Good one. Mind if I use that one? Maybe that one will actually happen when the year grades are sent home."

Dean laughed at Hermione's irritated look at her pair of friends. She was always after them to study more and disliked how little effort they put into their coursework at times. He stayed out of it usually, happy to watch the three of them bickering, than to point out he agreed with the two boys. The bold girl was happy enough to throw out her thoughts on his schoolwork efforts, or lack of, but wasn't in his classes or around him enough to be positive of her claims.

"While Pitcher and Sneakly are loads of entertainment," Dean spoke up and tucked away his notebook. The first merely looked over, amused at the name. But the red haired one glowered darkly up at him.

"It's Weasley."

"Right, right, Swinely." He smirked as the boy practically fumed. "I've got something else to do for Sammy before class, so I'll run into you later Hermione."

"Oh." The girl blinked, startled by him leaving early after his earlier request. "I can't help with that one?"

"Nope." He popped the 'p' and grinned at her. "But if it works out and Sammy gets over magic castle awe to start speaking and asking, I'll certainly steer him over to you if you're nearby."

Her shoulders slumped. "I suppose my book suggestions will tide over until I can meet your brother next year."

"Right," Dean drawled out. "Next year."


	6. Jammed and Broken

Dean woke up, full of energy and excitement as he looked over to his brother still sleeping. He pulled out the pencil from under his pillow, then tapped it to the bedframe and said the word the headmaster told him for setting the destination of the portkey. He then stashed it next to his wand for later use.

He grinned at Sam, who slept on, unaware that Dean's birthday promise was about to finally occur.

Dean grabbed his boots and laced them up, then tied the laces of Sam's grubby tennis shoes through his belt loops. He debated for a moment, looking over his little brother. Black sweat pants and a faded red t-shirt would work fine Dean decided. One hand on the pop can tab, he put the other on Sam and said his school's name.

* * *

Sam scrambled up, wide eyed after crashing into the hard floor. Then he stared. The floor was made of smooth stone. He jerked his head upwards and fell back onto his rear.

He was inside a castle.

Something smacked him in the head and Sam spun to see his older brother grinning broadly at him. Then Dean threw the other shoe at Sam. Sam caught it automatically. It wasn't until Dean crowed about it working and cheering Sam was a natural too, that Sam got it. This was Dean's witch owl school. Sam shoved on his shoes and bounced up, eager to explore.

* * *

Pleased as punch and a pepper up, Dean led Sam down the hall toward the door leading outside. If Sam was here, if Sam could see all this, Sam was like him and would be returning soon. As a student, a natural born wizard like he was.

Waiting at the door, Anthony shook his head and smiled at Dean, then put his hand out for Sam to shake.

Sam went practically starry eyed at the fancy broom Anthony held in his other hand. Dean grinned widely as his little brother began firing off question after question. He steered Sam out the door, glad the broom had distracted his brother from the castle and classes. They made their way down to the pitch where groups of mostly first and second years gathered while upper years were allowed out on a village visit.

* * *

Greeting and introducing Sam to the headmaster who had decided to watch the outdoor activities of the weekend, Dean received a wink. Anthony sputtered, probably figuring out Dean had been granted permission for his rule breaking to spoil Sam. Dean smirked at his annoyed friend.

Sam went all embarrassed as all the students there fussed over him.

The black haired third year who had been lamenting over another boring weekend due to lack of permission to join the upper years to the village caught Dean's eyes and grinned. Dean shrugged. He'd done it for Sam. Helping out there had just been a happy accident. The other boy grinned wider and then drew Sam's attention away from the embarrassing mass of cooing with the offer of a ride on his broom.

* * *

Anthony laughed as Dean pulled the youngest player in more than a hundred years at Hogwarts and threatened him. The boy had enough sense not to laugh, taking Dean seriously, and promised no harm to his little brother. Sam had heard from where he stood holding and admiring the boy's broom and complained, telling his older brother just exactly how old he had just turned.

It went forgotten as Dean snorted at Sam's whining of not being a baby and then shoved the Gryffindor Seeker forward.

Anthony and the rest of their house laughed loudly as it didn't stop Dean from watching them like a hawk. Amused at his protective American friend, Anthony choose to offer Sam flying lessons while the rest of the students picked teams for a scrimmage. Dean glowered at him. It wasn't Anthony's fault Dean introduced his brother to flying first, which Dean disliked. Anthony didn't doubt Dean would jump on a broom if Sam needed help or simply asked his brother to join.

* * *

Sam woke up, filed happily up with fantastical dreams of flying on broomsticks and a large castle. Dean was there too. Sam smiled to himself and stretched across his bed. Everything looked so ordinary around him now, but brighter in a sense. He wondered briefly if Dean's school looked anything like the one in his dream.

Then Sam stood up and swore he felt the faint sensation of sore on his bottom.

Dean wasn't entirely happy when he woke up. Not minding his brother's morning grumpiness, Sam sat up from where his launch had taken him. He weaved about to avoid Dean's attempts to get him off and shook Dean, firing question after question of what happened last night. His brother groaned and mumbled something about books, next year, and something about a girl's mine?

* * *

Dean could tell it was exceedingly difficult for his dad to concentrate on his case and the research he had spread around him. He noticed it and the signs of an incoming blow up over the cause of it. Dean winced, quickly apologized, and left the motel room to pace outside of it instead. Sam followed.

This school had been the closest thing to normal stability for the past four years and Dean wanted that for Sam.

His little brother had no memories of mom, no memories of not moving around, no close childhood friends, no one to be close to of his own choosing, never having much of a chance to leave their dad's living even when he grew up because they both lived it. This sort of life was the only kind Sam had known and in a weird way, this magical school gave options and normalcy. Sam deserved it. Sam really deserved it. His little brother had never received either from the world their dad placed them in.

Dean jumped with Sam at the distinct popping noise and turned to see a professor, her usual stern face replaced with sympathy. "Hello Dean Winchester. I remember you too Sam."

Sam frowned a bit.

"This is the professor who came to explain my school when I first went. She's the professor who saw us when I took you to the school with the headmaster's permission."

"Oh yeah!" Sam's face lit up. "The one you're scared of."

Affronted and distracted from the unexpected visit, Dean turned on Sam. "You're scared of her. You ran over and grabbed me as soon as she started screaming."

"You pulled us to hide behind the headmaster and then did the pencil popping thing back to Uncle Bobby's house!"

"I didn't hide. I told Dum—"

"Boys." Her voice cut through effectively. Dean shut his mouth and they both looked back to the professor.

"Sorry," he and Sam apologized.

"I am afraid I have come with a bit of unfortunate news," she said. Professor McGonagall handed Dean his letter and he turned it over, then realized there was only the one. He and Sam shared a look of confusion. "Your brother will not be attending with you next year, he is not—"

"But he can see the school," Dean protested loudly. "Of course Sammy is going with me next month! He's just as much a natural wizard as I am!"

She shook her head. "I was honestly just as confused as you are when your brother's name was not among the list. The headmaster did not seem as surprised, but wanted me to pass on a message to your father."

"Is it about Sammy?"

"Dean," Sam's voice quavered in his question.

"Tell me," Dean demanded.

"Now—"

"I said tell me! Sammy's my brother!"

A long silence followed, but Dean kept his eyes locked onto hers, even when he heard the motel door open behind him. He tightened his fist around the letter listing his fifth year supplies. When he felt Sam's touch to his arm, he loosened his grip some, but kept staring at her to get his answer on why Sam could not have a piece of stability.

"Any part of Sam Winchester that would be a wizard is suppressed," she said with a gentleness no one would expect from such a stern faced woman. Dean dropped his letter in surprise. "Something has made any abilities…disinclined to form, much like a squib. I am aware you and your brother are close, but he shall be just as fine as—"

"I'm not leaving Sammy. He's my little brother and I watch out for him. If he can't go—"

"Then your father will watch out for him," the professor spoke over him. "Like I said, I am aware you and your brother are close, the headmaster and I thought it best to come and explain rather than through an owl, but he shall be just as fine as your first four years as your last three years Dean Winchester."

"I'm _not_ leaving Sammy," Dean replied levelly. "I thought it would be a place my brother could be a kid and have classmates long enough to call them friends. Where teachers stayed the same and it would be a familiar place instead of a string of endless motels and schools and libraries and junk food, even though junk food is awesome, but a real chance at a real meal."

Dean's voice rose hysterically.

"He's a smart kid and no one else takes the time or gets the time to see that! Sammy's too smart for no choice in his life! He deserves options in life, to see what else is out there instead of being a target and being trained and then becoming a hunter! I'm not leaving Sammy! Or my dad! They're the only family I got left and it's my job to watch out for Sammy! So you can take your school…"

He reached back and pulled out the hidden long, thin piece of wood. In a single swift motion, Dean raised his knee up and hands down, snapping it in half.

"And fuck off."

Dean grabbed his stunned little brother by the hand and tugged him along. His dad stood straight-faced just behind them, moving his stare up from Dean to Professor McGonagall.

"I suggest you keep away from my boys or I get interested in testing out each way to kill a demonic witch on a natural one, one by one on you. But since you are here, why don't you and I have a nice _long_ chat to make up for the years of you sending animals instead."

"Let's go inside Sammy." Dean tugged his brother completely away, sure his dad would handle it. Sam's hesitant voice spoke up when the motel door was shut.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"You didn't have to leave because of me."

"Course I did. You're my brother."

"Did you mean it?" Sam asked shyly. "About me deserving better?"

Dean snorted. "What? You think I praise your schoolwork just to make you feel good?"

"No," Sam said softly.

"Good, because you're smart enough to be a college boy."

"You too."

"Nah. I don't care enough for school like you do Sammy."

"You're totally smart Dean! But…you deserve better too...because, because you do everything for me and dad."

Dean fell silent, then ruffled his little brother's hair.

"I got better. I got you Sammy."


	7. Set Aside

Dean nodded as Sam rattled off ideas of the future and brushed off as many of the numerous questions fired off at him. He assured Sam he could do anything and ignored the pit in his stomach on the no options hunter lifestyle both of them traveled on because of mom's death. Dean didn't have the heart to be realistic on Sam's chances of becoming a NASA pilot. His little brother was sure his all his flying dreams meant something.

Other than the fantastical stories Dean had been telling him for the past four years.

Unable to attend, it wasn't as real to Sam, far easier to tell his little brother magic wizards and whimsical schools did not actually exist. Supernatural creatures were real. Magical creatures were not. Dean told him it was like all those stories about Santa Clause, which had been broken to Sam when he was eight. Spotting a toy plane next to the stacks of used clothes, Dean figured a few of his old jeans could fit his little brother, and picked it up to buy. Sam's face lit up.

* * *

Dean knew it was a losing battle, but he continued the eye staring contest. The owl fluffed itself and clicked its beak at him. Dean huffed, but took the envelope tied to the owl's leg. His name was written in Anthony's hand. Again.

Using the pop can tab for a quick visit was tempting. And distressing.

Finally, Dean scribbled a single name onto the envelope under his own and gave it back to the owl. The owl ruffled its feathers and hopped away with a glare. Dean held up the pen and pointed to the envelope, proving to the owl he was actually writing back on attempt number twelve. The owl accepted it and flew off. Dean was positive Anthony would understand what he meant by simply putting his little brother's name down. Sure enough, not another owl showed.

* * *

Sam grinned when Dean's head swiveled around, perking up at the key word of pie. His older brother and he had already finished off the bucket of extra crispy chicken. Dad was snoring away on the couch with the television blaring out the football game. It was typical, but Sam enjoyed Dean's attention more than dad's.

He explained about a Thanksgiving invite from a classmate who promised extra homemade pie to take home if he showed up.

Dean practically bounced in excitement. Sam snickered, even if his brother smacked him across the back of his head. Growing up, Dean didn't act much like a kid like Sam, instead, he indulged Sam. So Sam wanted to pay his brother back on this holiday and get him a beloved pie. Homemade even. When he returned from Stephanie's house with the pie, Sam wished he could have brought more back for Dean. Even though it was with another family, it was all homemade and picturesque, feeling like his first real Thanksgiving. Sam watched his brother happily munch at the pie and set aside that memory for a goal of normal in the future.

* * *

Dean sat, but still angry enough to snarl back at the police officer that brought him to this reform place. He had found out earlier that day that the money earned from his radio device contract had been squandered away. It was all about the job for dad. Even the portion set aside for Sam's education. It was Sam's money and Dad had held back on giving Dean any food money, saying they could wait until they got to Bobby's in South Dakota, he'd be back from his hunt tomorrow to pick them up.

Livid, Dean snuck out of the motel while Sam was engrossed in a book. The cop had busted him with the peanut butter and bread. Of all things to be caught with on the five finger discount. Peanut butter and bread. Then, dad got called. Dean fought back a snort. Rot in jail? He knew dad was pissed, but so was he.

The day could not get any worse. Dean didn't even have a way to get back since his pop can tab was in his backpack in the motel. Otherwise, he would've said Sam's name an hour ago. Then the reform guy, Sonny, told him off about treating a cop like he had as though cops weren't actual idiots and treating Dean like a gullible five year old. Except mister sunshine there probably had a point after all, since the cop left with the damn handcuff key. This day. What a bitch.

* * *

Dean fought the tears. Every time this happened it was so damn difficult. It was never a hard choice, the choice was always the same. But it still was hard. He always lost someone. His mom. His first real friend. The girl he gave his first kiss to, almost his first school dance too. And the man who was telling Dean he'd stick out his neck. Fight for Dean to stay.

At the sound of the horn, Dean looked out the window. He laughed a little. Sam was playing with the toy plane Dean had gotten him, the overlong sleeves of one of Dean's old shirts flapping through the Impala's open window. The cost Sam had been willing to pay for the item.

Sam burst with questions when Dean entered the car, curious and anxious at Dean not being at Bobby's place with him the past two months. Dean hesitated, surprised dad didn't tell Sam some sort of story to quell him. He hesitated longer, realizing Sonny had been a supportive father figure, like in the family television shows Sam denied enjoying. Another slice of normal Dean received that Sam had not. With a look, dad told a story to Sam, a lie, lost in a hunt. Like the lie of a school for natural wizards being mere stories. Sam accepted it. Dean forced a smile, ruffled his little brother's hair to Sam's annoyance, and pointedly didn't look back. Or his dad for the next several months. Dean was still pissed about the whole thing.

* * *

Sam rushed away from his teammates, filled with elation as he saw his dad. Dad had actually showed up this time. Just like Dean promised him he would do for the division game. Get dad there.

Dean smirked and pointed to dad standing behind him, like Sam didn't already see him there.

He reached them and looked up, holding his trophy up even higher. Dean and dad and Uncle Bobby all here. They were all his family, gathered together for his important soccer match, cheering him on with the other families of his teammates.

"Nice job out there Sam."

Sam beamed up at the smile with the usual gruff voice. "Thanks Uncle Bobby! I'm happy you could make it to this one dad!"

"Yeah. That's some trophy there."

"You want to see it?" Sam pushed it into his dad's hands.

"It looks nice Sam."

Dean snickered. "Division championship. Closest you've gotten to being a real boy Sammy."

"Dean!"

"What? It sounds like some sort of nerdy math award."

Sam scowled and shoved at Dean. "Maybe I'll make it multiple next summer."

His older brother ruffled his hair. Dean just had to ruin the nice family moment. Peeved, Sam swatted at the hand. Dean laughed at him.

"Yeah. You get them geek boy."

Sam tried to fix his sweaty hair, but he didn't protest against the insult. He would, he defended his pride silently, but Dean had said it with affection.

"Jerk. Of course I will."

Dean grinned and annoyingly messed up Sam's hair again. Complete jerk. Sam reached up and hurriedly flattened his brother's spiked up hair in retaliation. His brother's hair was too short to really manage it. Dean snickered at him. Uncle Bobby was smiling at them when Sam looked up, dad shining up the label from his trophy. If Sam could have a precious family picture hidden in his pocket like he knew Dean had, it would totally be taken today.

He quickly settled the score by dumping the last of his water bottle over Dean's head and bolted off.

"You little bitch!"


	8. Rediscovered

Dean glanced up, finding some disappointment that Bobby appeared more let down than his dad. He ignored the report card and emotions for a moment to tinker under the hood of the Impala. Then he set down the tool to give his dad his full attention and explanation.

His dad nodded at Dean's reasoning. School could be passed with a GED. But Sam would be four years alone at school, away from any family. Dad was scared Sam would one day desert his family. Proud of Sam's smarts, yes, but frightened he'd lose bull headed Sam because of that. He didn't expect losing mom, but Dean could see how dad pushed harder when his little brother pulled away.

Both of them were idiots. Bobby could only snort in agreement beside Dean. They worked under the hood for a while before Bobby pried out a bit of wood and asked since school didn't matter if he could throw it away. Dean snatched his broken wand out of Bobby's hand. He checked quickly to make sure his dad hadn't come back before putting it back. Bobby shook his head, insulted Dean before going into detail over the alternator belt.

* * *

He'd burst with excitement when Dean got out of the Impala, still bursting when he rushed a safe distance from it. Sam had been so feed up with dad this whole summer. No soccer, training with guns, knives, defensive maneuvers, hunting and researching and studying supernatural things. Everything that made Sam weird and a freak to any classmate at any of the schools.

Sneaking away from parental authority and setting off fireworks on Independence Day with his brother was perfect.

Well, maybe not burning down the field, but that kind of became perfection when Sam thought back to that night instead of the current werewolf case. Dean smirked across the table at him, winking, before pointing out an article he found to dad. Dad came over and Sam hurried to hid the tale tell evidence back into his pocket, grasping Dean's favorite lighter tightly as he smiled. Perfect. Independence Day was and had been and always would be perfect.

* * *

Dean cursed and threw the bag at the wall. There were only so many times his brother could do this. Sam had yet to pull this stunt when their dad was around, only when Dean was off duty from hunting. Never with dad or when already alone. Just with Dean there. Dean wound up his arm, then jerked to a halt before he could make contact with the motel wall. He hated having one arm in a cast as it already was and didn't need the other damaged too. He glared at the cast. Sam's signature and doodles mocked him and his trust. Taking off when he was injured was a new one from Sam, one Dean hadn't expected when he had gone out on a food run.

Instead of hitting the wall, he annihilated the salad that fell out of the bag with his feet. Even, for good measure, stomping with both feet like a tantrum pulling child.

Dean heaved a sigh. Better. Weird he felt that need, but better. He fumbled, but found the pop can tab weaved into his string of wristbands and said one of the two magic words. Nothing happened. He repeated it, wide eyed, mind furiously working to figure out why. It's not like he hadn't used it before or at a time he shouldn't need it, like holidays off from school. He even tried the other key word for it, the one he hadn't used in three years. But…oh. The headmaster had probably set it with a set time and Dean would have finished attending a month ago, in June. He tore it off and threw it into the trashcan, the faintest twitch of something before he left to find Sam.

* * *

Sam scowled and shoved his brother away, annoyed at him. Dean's nostrils flared as he berated him. His fists clenched as Dean went on about him not handling his new schoolyard bully. He hated it when Dean got like this, like Dean didn't trust him to deal with it or not deal with it, stepping in and making the name calling even worse. Protective was all Dean and Sam loved his big brother, but Dean went overboard.

He shouted out in protest, interrupting Dean and charged at him.

The fight was short lived, a tumble more than anything and Sam shot a surly face up at Dean over him. Normally, Dean would gloat on the win or mention slack with training, but his brother hovered. Sam frowned. Then Dean smirked and delivered some bullshit line about only he could insult Sam. Then added that if anyone called him Nancy Downs ever again, he'd hit them on principal, before walking off and telling Sam it was time to go. His brother was weird when it came to making stands. Don't touch his music or pie and now this weird hatred on this new movie out. Sam needed to see if he could get audio of it and switch out the mullet rock with it, he decided as he glared at Dean's back.

* * *

Sam paused in ranting out his reasons of why, stumbling as he saw a flash of pain in his big brother's face. Dean's face, Sam microcorrected. He had never grown out of that habit of pride in his big brother, even if he had outgrown Dean in height. Pain wasn't commonly shown to Sam and Sam knew it. Big brother turned to grab another sack of college essentials before little brother could ask. Sam scowled. But he gave in and directed Dean to just place it on his dorm desk.

Sam hesitated in the slightest, but it flew from his mouth easily. Telling his big brother something only a big brother would say. Or a television parent.

Dean should think about becoming an actual mechanical wizard and apply for MIT because he was good at it, always been good at it and loved it. To be normal and live his own life since he didn't have to look after his little brother. However, Dean's surprise over Sam's advice and support, only led to a quip before he exited dodgedly. Sam sighed at the window watching the Impala drive away from Stanford, clutching the lighter in his pocket that used to be Dean's favorite tightly. His big brother may not believe he could have a life outside of hunting, but Sam did and he hoped Dean figured it out without little brother tying him down.

* * *

Dean nursed the drink before him, glad the barkeep was distracted. On a weeknight, there was not much for trouble expected or much of a crowd. The barkeep was clearly going to kip out for the girlfriend he was texting, Dean had been reading the whole dirty conversation off the mirror. It only left into question the two knocking billiard balls as innocent civilians. The British bloke was engrossed in the grubby bar's telly, after being shirty with the barkeep about changing the channel. Dean eyed him from the corner of his eye, not sure if his target being completely pissed was going to tide over well.

Five mysterious deaths as soon as one arrived in town was not subtle.

Even if Boulder City was just a short drive over from a crazy town like Vegas, it stood out. Dean fingered his stashed gun and furrowed his brow over the glass. He did not like the look of deaths caused by this older bloke. No cause of death, but still clearly dead? Even he had been baffled at the morgue, but he was itchy over the odd detail of the teenage daughter's cell phone. The Razor had stopped working at her estimated time of death.

"Hey Tim."

The barkeep perked up at the voice and Dean tilted his head to look, then whistled. Tim grinned widely at Dean. Tim, the about to be shagged barkeep, checked on his other customers before stepping out. Dean raised his glass in salute when the lucky barkeep left.

Then glanced back to his own target.

"Oh please tell me that's a scratching stick." Dean clunked his glass down, shifted on his barstool, and smiled disarmingly at the man. The older gent paused and stared at Dean, holding what was clearly a wand, pulled out from his sleeve. "Because I've got this itch to—"

The wand swung with deadly intent. "Avada K—"

The barstool flipped up with more intent from under Dean, hitting the man's arm. A flash of red flared between the two of them. It startled Dean somewhat, but with the wand gone, he strode forward and punched. The graying man staggered against the bar.

"Itching to attack? You know, I always wondered if I'd run into another natural wizard," Dean said conversationally. The target scrambled to stand, eyes flickered about in search of his missing wand. The two pool players shouted at him to get away from his target, catching Dean's interest when the typical background noise yelled about him being stupid. Nothing new. But the addition of muggle was. The British bloke seemed far more interested in the civilians at that, fear and hatred and determination filling up every line of his body.

Huh. A wizard on the run. What'd'ya know?

Dean snorted and shifted his weight in preparation. "Figures with my luck you're like a demonic witch!"

The bloke struggled, attacking wildly with his limbs and they both went down to the floor. They rolled and hit a table. Dean twisted as chairs fell. The guy pulled his arm up with a concentration on his face, as if he was having difficulty pooping. The wand flew into the bloke's hand and went off with a bang.

Dean hit the light above the pool table and wall before landing. He scrambled up, pissed.

"Get down!"

A hand yanked him down by the collar of his jacket. Dean silently thanked the pool player when he saw a green jet of light char the wall. Icy blue eyes didn't miss anything when Dean went to pull out the gun he'd been packing.

"Put that bloody gun back," the pool player snapped. Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged the blonde haired Southern's hand off his back, peeking around the table. Red and green flashed across the bar, like a family Christmas gone terribly wrong. "Found one of the supernatural specialists here!"

"I heard the demonic witch comment, thanks Barnaby." The sandy haired fellow firing off the red jets didn't seem amused. Barnaby? Dean was amused at that. "Tell me again how such a moron escaped British clutches?"

The older man laughed and fired off a couple more green streaks. Trigger happy moron, Dean insulted in his mind, and agreed with the sandy haired wizard's question.

"Morons to you! No one thinks of running to America with all that bad blood! Dirty! Filled with dirty muggles like that stupid redneck you'd risk your safety for to save him. Muggle lovers," he spat.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why is everyone discounting me in this," he huffed.

The blonde pool player beside Dean ignored that, quickly firing off a red burst of light from his wand. When another green jet scorched the wall, Dean shook his head. Well, one way to stop this all was in aim. If wand work couldn't manage it… Maybe he could. He gripped his gun tight, then shot up and fired over the sizzling billiard table.

He took pride in his target crying out like a schoolgirl as his wand fell, clutching a bleeding hand. Dean let out a gleeful shout.

"Ha! First of all," he began cheerfully. He leapt forward, then kicked the screaming bloke down. Dean pressed his boot firmly onto the dropped wand. The guy cried out again when his wand snapped. "You rely way too much on your little scratching stick. Compensating much? Second. Moron. Stupid redneck tracked you and took you out on one shot. Redneck?"

Dean snorted and kicked him in the stomach.

"You're the redneck…redneck."

He gave another kick. Then he cocked his head in contemplation before nodding.

"Okay, yeah, I'm good now." He groaned and let out a bit of a rant. "I freaking hate witches! This, this is so much worse. You acting like one? Your ass looks worse than a muggle taking a demon deal for not witchy powers, but like a muggle taking a demon deal for a freaking fish without the chips."

The two wizards that had hurried to get magical ropes around the older man, turned at that.

Dean hummed a tune and smirked, very much finding the flabbergasted and confused faces amusing. "So what? You two part of the American Ministry of Magic or some crap?"

"Or some…crap." The one who hadn't fought beside him furrowed his eyebrows down. Dean could see the sandy haired young man was furiously trying to figure him out and he laughed at him. "Do you have any idea how dangerous what you did was? He's a moron, but still a Death Eater and wily enough to…to…"

Dean paused in picking up the snapped wand. Hazel from sandy hair, then Southern blue eyes stared wide at him with an elbow nudge between the two. He glanced down to his hand. It wasn't like he made the wand light up to warrant the unusual looks. Well, Dean admitted, unusual to them was probably more like witnessing a gun doing what a wand could not.

"Meatloaf. You're—"

"Awesome. Nice music taste," Dean preened and complimented the sandy haired fellow. The distraction failed quickly. Unfortunately, those hazel eyes looked sharp despite shock.

"No no, how could I forget, you, I mean, that pendant, you're, you're bleeding hell. Here? You're here."

That sentiment sounded like trouble. Recognition of a person in his field of work was never a good thing. Certainly trouble. Dean shifted, inching back and ready just in case things became more interesting.

The Southern blondie spoke up before Dean could retreat, his blue eyes wide at the pendant Sam gave him years ago. Crap. What the hell did he do? Did he accidently have a case that screwed over some natural born wizards and witches authority figures in—

"You're Manchester."

Dean did a double take at that. The only person who called him by that wrong last name was a black haired thirteen-year-old from Britain about six, no, seven years ago. Because he, but, how?

"Plater? How? What the hell? When the hell did you go blonde?"

The other laughed. "Magic." Dean wrinkled his nose at the reminder. "And a disguise, but this guy! This guy! What do you know Rickett? First supernatural specialist you finally find after years of searching, then Ron's prediction about my luck when we came to America chasing this bloke, you finally—"

Dean cut him off, his head swiveling with a snap to look back to Meatloaf guy. Now that he really looked… His eyes went wide.

"Anthony?"


	9. Recognized

Dean scrawled across the white binder, putting the personal touch for the title. He paused a bit and then snorted. Anthony was going to give him crap about it for sure, but Dean left his name off as the author. It was pretty much just basics of supernatural monsters compared to their magical creature counterparts. And then some for the supernatural side. All typed up and put in page protectors over the course of the past month. He even placed in a few of the protections for the supernatural creatures, knowing it was probably asking for trouble. But Dean knew he'd blame himself if any wizards or witches did run into a supernatural monster without knowledge of protecting themselves and dying because of it.

It was a bit like that journal he'd written in when he attended Hogwarts, detailing differences for when his brother was old enough to attend. Dean gazed at the phone, fingers twitching. He wondered if Bobby still had it stashed in that hidden fireplace spot.

With a shrug, Dean headed out to start the drive over to the Ricketts. Anthony's little sister was sure to jump for joy when he arrived. Due to another war with that dark lord across the pond, Anthony moved to America after his parents died when Allison was a couple years old. Dean hadn't asked for details. He'd lost his mom himself years ago and he was only just reentering the wizard society after about seven years gone. If five year old Allison thought he was going to be the closest thing to an uncle she had, Dean would go with it.

* * *

Sam flipped through the book series Brady had suggested to him, but set it aside with a huff. It reminded him of childhood stories Dean used to tell him. All the magical versions of supernatural creatures their dad hunted and a school for magical wizards. After he turned eleven, Sam had been told they were only that, stories. Dean trying to protect him from the harsher realities of their world, the fact of Dean training at night with dad. He was willing to suspend some harshness about all creatures, like Amy, but he couldn't see his dad or Dean doing that at all. Out of all of the creatures, Dean was the worst with witches who took the demon deal.

He took a few minutes picturing Dean's reactions to this big time book series based on wizards and witches, amusing himself. He felt a pang of sadness. After assisting him move in, his brother had been as good as dad was in keeping in touch. As in, not at all. Sam worried if Dean was okay, if he had finally left the life without Sam to keep an eye on or if he still put his life in danger hunting supernatural creatures.

Sam flipped back through the book and paused on the chapter picture of wizards flying on broomsticks. He smiled a little. That had been a good dream as a kid, being giving a ride and taught to fly himself. Sam had almost forgotten about how much he had loved anything that flew when he was in middle school. He grinned and plunked onto the bed with the book, reopening up his childhood imagination. Sam fell in love with fantasy once again, the series striking several chords of tales Dean would weave for him as a kid.

* * *

Dean scowled, determined to beat his adversary. He got computers, he just hated dealing with them. This was more Sam's thing most of the time. However, he knew this wasn't something he could rustle with his powers of persuasion. Bitch face would be low on the totem pole if Dean schmoozed it out of Sammy's fancy professors year after year. Sam knew Dean's methods and knew his fake legit. Dean had to use alternative methods to spring anything on Sam otherwise his little brother would be prepared to deal with it.

Backtracking for a moment, Dean smirked and swiped Sam's photo from the school website browser he already had up, and set up fake badges. He typed deliberately with one finger. B-i-k-i-n-i I-n-s-p-e-c-t-o-r. He snickered and dearly hoped to have reason to spring that one onto Sammy at some point in time. And make sure their dad never found it before Dean could do that.

He went back and brightened, finding what he had been doing wrong. MIT should maybe fix their computers after this. Okay, probably. But come on, MIT was one of the best tech schools, it should have been harder to hack, right? Even if Dean slide in to listen to their classes when he managed free time off a case like this, he wasn't that great with computers. He preferred the old school technology, not this newer fangled crap. Printing off the student records he wanted from Standford, Dean flooded the computer with of the few codes he bothered to figure out. Now it would pull up and freeze on BustyAsianBeauties for the next logger-in. Dean took off as he proudly read over Sam's choice in classes, his grades, and the professor comments. Completely missing the computer message that flashed on the screen, complimenting his website choice from a Dr. Badass.

* * *

Sam laughed at Brady and Scott stomping around the bonfire and singing badly to a Whitesnake song. He took a swig out of his bottle, practically hearing Dean's voice giving him crap about drinking alcohol before heading over to flirt with Becky. She'd be Dean's type out of all the girls, Sam figured.

Becky was sitting over with Tiffany and Taylor as they burned through the supply of marshmallows and hogged the chocolate. Colin, Nathan, and Travis were holding the rest of the sticks as they made up the brats and hot dogs for everyone. Sam grinned behind his drink as he laughed at the image of Dean bitching over the lack of burgers.

When they brought out the sparklers and fireworks, Brady's lighter gave out and Sam found his hand already on his pocket. Not willing to hand it over, Sam got up to fire up a sparkler for Brady and together, they put on the show. Celebrating the beginning of a new school year and, for Sam, a year to the day he last saw Dean. He put Dean's old favorite lighter back into his pocket and wished this wasn't how his family was and his brother had taken the chance to get out. But it seemed unlikely.

* * *

Stiff, Dean nodded. His father nodded back, satisfied. He trumped out of the hundred year old country farm house, past the destroyed walls and furniture, and out to his truck. Dean followed. The job was done. While for the most part Dean would check in, the silence created by Sam's absence had been too much for either of them and they separated for working jobs. The last time his father had called him for assistance was that poltergeist. Dean thanked god it didn't involve getting on the damn plane.

He also thanked the world for favors in not riding in his father's truck. What his dad was thinking when there was a beauty like the Impala, Dean would never know. He could guess. But he never voiced them to his father.

Dean tossed his equipment back into the truck and rubbed at his back. While he had long sense embraced the hunter life and seeing things others would never dream of, Dean was discovering it nerve-wracking when on a job with his father. His father was the best. He was a hero. A hero the world didn't see, but he did. Somehow, the fact he could never live up to his father never struck him as hard as when it used to be all of them together. When Sam was around and before he began picking up solo jobs. He touched the charm at his neck, bolstered by his brother's puppy dog face beaming up at him, smiled, shut the trunk, and went back to his father to share a beer.

* * *

Anthony laughed at Dean's face as the book signing event went on. While some witches and wizards were claiming muggles could not have issues with creatures such as the ones described in Dean's helpful book, others took it as a great piece of joke fiction, and the rest soaked it up as the nonfiction it was. All groups looked forward to the panel Dean had been conned into doing after the signing. Not to mention the Harry Potter endorsement pushing the book to ridiculous heights. Dean's fate was signed when Anthony got Harry to _accidently_ reveal Dean as the author. They and anyone else who knew of magical and supernatural creature differences thought it was far too important to know about, than to have Dean slink out of the recognition.

Allison smiling and sitting on Dean's lap was doing wonders to him being polite. Stiffly polite, but better than snarking and dodging the acknowledgement. When it came to praise, Dean had always been terrible. It took ages to make him see how talented he actually was. The creation of the Wizarding Wireless was a point of old Hufflepuff pride, even if was officially no paper trail to tie it back to Dean.

His childhood friend could give the stink eye as long as he wanted, but Anthony saw a few enthusiastic manage to drag him into conversation on the book. Besides, Dean would forgive him later when he realized a certain someone was waiting in the line and free for the next few days for a visit. When she finally made it to the front of the line, she beamed and rushed forward to greet Dean. It took a brief moment, but Dean's face lit up. Anthony chuckled. He'd always had that weak spot for Hermione.

* * *

Dean blinked, then snickered at Hermione's jaw drop. Beside him, the tiny girl stuck out her chest in pride, patting his knee. Not unusual from Allison. Anthony's little sister had taken to clinging and adorable faces with him, refusing to stop calling him her uncle. However, he frowned when he saw how Anthony's eyes had widened too.

Modifying a cellular phone to work around magic wasn't that hard. All he did was adopt from his trial and error from when he had made sure Meatloaf was heard at Hogwarts.

Which went huge. And everywhere in the magical world. Or so he heard from those who actually lived in it. He groaned, realizing his error and hit his forehead.

"No, no, don't any of you start. All I did was modify something already created. Not a big deal. I didn't even graduate, high school or Hogwarts. Anyone could have modified the thing. Not hard or a big deal."

"You are patenting this one," Anthony decreed. "The only other few people who attempt things like this, cause break down of the object. They don't last long with magic. You have the technological touch Dean and I'm not going to let you pull a Wizarding Wireless again."

Hermione gasped, looking up from the cell phone Dean had given her to use once she left for back home. "That was you?! You created the Wizarding Wireless? And here I theorized you didn't take school as seriously as you should. Well, I suppose correctly. It was one thing when Anthony informed me your disappearance before your fifth year was to do with your brother and thus losing out on that education, but not even regular school? There is no excuse for that, but you did seem very hands on with learning even back then," she mused.

Dean groaned, hanging his head. "Not. A big. Deal. It's just a phone."

Allison palmed his cheeks and moved his head up. "Uh-huh! It's a very big deal! But I always knew you were awesome Uncle Dean."

"Stop with the uncle already," he complained inadequately. It was half-hearted at this point. An almost two year back and forth with the stubborn blonde girl.

"Nope," she responded. Popped her 'p' like he often did. "Uncle Dean, Uncle Dean."

"I'll get you for that Allie," he promised her. The girl beamed at his nickname and giggled, shaking her head. Dean grinned and grabbed her. "Tickle attack!"

She shrieked, laughter spilling out of her and then popped out of his hold. Allison danced at the spot she popped to, a few feet from his reach, and stuck out her tongue. The seven year old witch was a born escape artist. He was just glad her doe eyed fascination with him didn't lead to discovering any talent to making her accidental magic pop farther than many feet. Dean didn't fancy the girl suddenly showing up when he was on the road. Or worse, on a job.

"So, I'll just be leaving before Allie here starts throwing her stuffed animals at me again in retaliation," Dean said as casually as possible when he got up. Anthony caught his arm before he could get away. "Damn."

"Language!" Hermione admonished him. "You should come up with a name for this Dean. It's amazing."

He snorted. "Allie can name it for all I care. It's just something I made sure didn't die too quickly on me with all my driving around from job to job and it's not like I can or I'm going to use an owl to keep in touch with you."

"I don't get one?" Anthony asked dryly. "Oh the pain of being your best friend."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I can visit you moron."

"And me," Allison added in brightly. "I'll name it Uncle Dean!"

"There. Settled. Named by her. She can have the recognition. Can we drop it now? It's bad enough you had Pitcher give my name out for the book. It was basic research, anything anyone can go know."

"No they can't," Hermione spoke up. She leaned forward in her seat. "I agree with Anthony. You are going to patent this in your own name Dean. You deserve it and to take credit for your work. You'll find it appreciated far more than you appreciate and credit your own hard work. This isn't something anyone can do. You have a real passion for mechanics and it shows, no matter how you've tried to hide it. Even in school, your comments on the topic managed to baffle me and I would write it down to look up later. A buddy of my father who made his professional living in dealing with that sort was even surprised at your age when I said to why I was asking and looking something up. I can't figure out why you're downplaying any of your abilities. You obviously know your stuff, can protect people from the stuff you know if needed, and have an outstanding hand with mechanics. How can't you see that Dean?"

Dean went wide eyed at that pronouncement from Hermione, then shook his head. "It's just a matter of—"

"Portable Post," Allison declared loudly to the living room.

They all turned to her, surprised at the sudden announcement.

"Right. That's settled then. I'll pick up the forms then," Hermione stated.

"The British ones," Anthony said. "I'll take care of the logistics of forms here. I know someone in magical patents. I can get it through."

"Why can't you just drop it?"

Anthony grinned at Dean's slumped shoulders. "Why did you just give up against us? Admit it. We're wearing you down…Uncle Dean."

Allison applauded, then turned her excited face to Dean. And went adorable. "You're really going to let me name it Uncle Dean?"

"That's going to stop working on me at some point Allie." She kept the adorable face looking up at him, grinned, and hugged his leg. "Hopefully," Dean muttered to himself. "Age didn't stop Sammy's puppy face."

* * *

Author's note:

Honestly, I had a different image in mind when I began this story for the ending I wanted. To touch on the idea of the two worlds connecting. I don't know if its only me, but I've run into stories time and time again of the Winchesters being older than Harry. Either as brothers or professors, which are interesting, but wished the timing matched up. So I connected the two worlds with age, as Harry is technically a year and a half younger than Dean and older than Sam. Even made sure Sam had no hint being able to use his magic, the demon blood, and other fun details to fans of either stories. I always saw Dean proving his natural ability with the gun to outclass a wand. The end.

Dean has proven that and stuck to his gun, rather than the wand. I don't see him using a wand after running into that wizard on the run and proving a gun worth its notice. But...I noticed Dean tends to hide his normal chances from Sam.

The times he remembers being a normal kid with a mom. The times he got to remain at a school long enough to create relationships. The times he had a father figure from Sonny, did sports, dated his first girl. A normal piece of his life come back, reunited with his friend Anthony Rickett, without the presence of Sam? Dean doesn't like being alone.

I realized at this point of the story, Dean wouldn't just leave the magical world again, despite embracing hunting. He'd complain, but linger. And it would come around again. The time when John goes missing and he finally reaches out for his other family member to be with him, getting Sam from Stanford. The time he'd hide his magical side and friends once again. And so I took my time to rethink Natural with a Gun, to continue it onward, past the ending I originally thought Dean would have with the magic world.


	10. Under the Proper Care

All these months later, it still sent a grin on Dean's face whenever he received anything from this phone number. She'd been like the sister he had always wanted back when they were little, but that had also been close to ten years ago and apart. He'd honestly didn't know how she would take his impromptu gift for staying in touch. It actually had been for Anthony as a way to keep in contact with Allison when he was sent out for work. Which, Anthony, per usual, called him out on. Hermione coming to America to see him from the book signing hadn't been expected. Not unwelcome, but unexpected.

Hermione called it brilliant. Dean puffed up his chest in remembrance. By the time she'd gone back to Britain, it was like no time had gone by and he was annoying her in stating his awesomeness.

Dean froze as he grabbed snacks off the shelf. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment, hesitating at Hermione finally finishing her rambling to boldly burst out her request. She wanted him to do what? He put the phone back to his ear. Hermione was back to rambling reasons again, voice trailing off into an uneasy silence. Purpose filled him up and he told her not to worry, she wouldn't be able to stop him from doing it now. He let her have her tears on the other end of the phone, knowing there wasn't much he could say on the topic of her father or mother. It wasn't something easily fixed. But he would do his damnest to try and stand in to give her away to Ron.

* * *

Peeved and even more highly concerned, Sam forcibly shoved Brady out the door. The sounds of the party muted, but not by much. This was not like his college friend. Ever since the break, something had happened to cause his friend to go down a deliberate path of destruction. Brady laughed and teased Sam about not being able to have fun. He spun and shook Brady. The lecture he gave did nothing except to cause Brady to snicker at him.

Before Sam could tear into Brady again, someone else raced up to them, her face lighting up at seeing Brady was found. Jessica Moore. Sam froze as she hurried up to him and Brady.

Brady nudged him and Sam shoved back, not looking at the self-assured face he was sure to find. Jessica's lecture was far more effective than Sam's had been. They led Brady back to the dorms and Sam didn't completely believe Brady's Boy Scout promise to stay put. Then his friend waggled his eyes at Jessica Moore's back as she left. Sam glared, but looked away as he felt the heat in his cheeks. Brady annoyingly reminded Sam he'd introduced them from the party three nights ago and Sam should stow his grievances with him. Then shoved Sam after the pretty blonde, smirked and disappeared into his dorm.

* * *

Anthony could hear the question and see the smirk far beyond when he told Dean he was bringing a date along for the Weasley/Granger wedding. He could potentially live with it because it got his friend's attention off of the portkey and his hatred of flight. Except this was a girl Anthony was looking at for long term. And Dean would never let his hand in this relationship go once he found out.

Darcy Fitzgerald had been a girl he finally had reason to get up the nerve to speak casually to outside of work due to her being the person he knew in magical patents. The same girl he went to see about the Allison named creation of Dean's handiwork.

Sure enough, Dean recognized her and asked the question Anthony knew would come out of his friend. He scowled darkly when his sister spouted out how awesome her uncle was and gave Dean a high five. Darcy laughed with them though, so it was still good. He shook his head at his friend and sister, shrugging at their antics. She kissed his cheek. More smirking and laughing from Dean and Allison, but Anthony was all right with it.

* * *

John watched his eldest across the dinner table. Dean's posture was stiff, uncomfortable looking against the battered red cushion of the booth. It wasn't due to the hunt he'd called him here to help him out. With two men working it, it had given neither father nor son any worthwhile injury. Being able to relate to his eldest outside of a case was straining. Dean was so reserved and guarded with John that it hurt and left him without words until his temper lashed out about it. He was at least trying to win against his anger of failing Dean as a father, right?

The rock ringtone of his son's cell phone broke the tense silence, startling John. Who else called Dean other than him? Had he interrupted another case Dean was looking into?

Dean glanced up apologetically, but John motioned for him to hurry and get it. An excitable child's voice was easily heard without the speaker function and he nearly choked on his coffee. Wide eyed, John jerked his head up at his eldest who had frozen fearfully at what his father had just overheard. Uncle Dean? His temper burst and Dean flinched back at his yelling before trying to calm him in public. John shouted at Dean trying to manage him when neither of his sons bothered to tell him he had a grandchild. Dean stared, stunned silent at the accusation. The child's voice piped up from the phone again to say they only called Dean uncle. Baffled, John gruffly ordered for Dean to explain. What followed was the closest conversation John was able to have with Dean that wasn't about taking care of Sam or the job, the closest conversation they had as father and son. And it revolved around magic.

* * *

Dean never questioned where Allison got her need to be cute from when Anthony offhandedly suggested the three of them fly to the magical reservation. She took the chance to pipe up using the Impala instead. The girl had always been trying to get invited inside of the vehicle ever since she first realized how beloved it was to him. She'd always be welcome to it, along with Anthony, but Dean enjoyed messing with her and watching her attempts of convincing him. Anthony knew full well, encouraging his little sister's antics and them grinning at each other when she wasn't looking.

But Dean scowled at his so-called best friend. Anthony raised his eyebrow, his lip twitching. The suggestion of an airplane was definitely not humorous.

Allison leapt wildly onto him, cheering loudly as he gave the Impala affirmative. He shouted and grumbled at her, ineffectively, as she giggled and hugged him rather than continue hanging off of him like a monkey. Then he went into lecture mode, informing her of how long the drive would be and how long they would be stuck in his baby. She just grinned, loudly declaring that was going to be the best part. Anthony snickered at Dean's flabbergasted face. That is until Dean and Allison made a battle stand, attacking him with table snacks.

* * *

Anthony felt out of his element. Research in the library he was okay with, paperwork was fine. Heck, he held no issue in going after witches or wizards who created some of the paperwork. But Dean's fascination with magical creatures held no flame to the responsibility Dean felt on the supernatural kind. Once his friend heard rumors from the magical reserve caretakers, they stopped to research at the local library, and then dropped by to question the family. But this figured when dealing with Dean. Family wasn't home, except for the reason for this all. Panicked, he yanked his little sister back from the edge of the salt circle. Allison's face pinched sourly up at him, then worriedly where Dean fought off the supernatural ghost with the fireplace poker and trying to get at the locks of hair the family had kept.

It was only now Anthony's brain finally clicked on why Dean's more unique wand had been made of petrified wood. The iron. It wasn't just a nod to his friend's more mechanical abilities.

Allison loudly told the ghost off for attacking Dean, diverting its attention. It flickered and appeared in front of them. Shouting, she wound back her arm and threw salt at it. The ghost flickered and came from another angle, strong air currents destroying the protective circle. Anthony pulled his sister behind him, whipped his wand out, whirling salt grains up around them, and called out for Dean to hurry up. Dean crowed as the ghost went up in flames with the locks of hair. Anthony scowled, then rolled his eyes when his best friend slapped him on the back, giddy with the success and how good Anthony was to have around on a basic ghost hunt. The birthday girl cheered, happily skipping alongside Dean. At least Dean gave an apologetic look back at Anthony for how questioning the family turned out.

* * *

Flirting with her to open her up probably wasn't the best idea. Dean followed along, continuing the charade of needing the help to find the place. He wasn't on game, she actually looked more amused as they kept walking, and he was putting his foot in his mouth.

He may be thinking she appeared amused, but he damn well knew Sam was at him.

Dean had to get back into the swing of things, this was _not_ working. He was too thrilled at stringing this along and keeping his brother with him as long as he could possibly get away with right now. A year, he'd have to get his head on straight for a year. If Sam brought it up, Dean could maybe sway Sam to a year away from school and the tragedy of his girlfriend, Jessica Moore, dying like mom did. It was selfish and Sam knew Dean didn't need him, but Sam went along with it anyway. Dean had hope this road trip was helping his brother. That maybe Sam needed him right now. And Dean was determined to be there for Sammy.

"Kids are the best?" Sam repeated the last line Dean tried on Lucas's mother. "You don't even like kids."

Dean scowled at being Sam's entertainment, sorely tempted to knock him over the head. "Yeah I love kids."

"Name three children that you even know."

Dean stuffed down his first answer, Allie. Just turned ten and full of enthusiastic spunk. Ready to show him off whenever he got dragged in for instructional help, updated books, and his latest patent he'd let her name again. She still had the adorable face at ten, but he kept insisting she'd grow out of it. Sam would want to know how he knew her. The next one on the tip of his tongue was James, Pitcher's first kid.

But Sam had been told long ago that all those stories where just stories, magical versions of supernatural didn't exist. The kid had long since questioned out everything on Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, mermaids, and other fantastical creatures all children were told about. So when Sam was told that about magical witches and wizards, his disappointment was sharp and nodding in acceptance. Questioning it hadn't come to younger Sam's mind.

Dean had fallen back into the lives of wizards during Sam's time at college, back to a time he had gotten normal when Sam had not. Sam had sent him away from Stanford with hopes of normal for him. Dean didn't want to admit to any of that though. Sam deserved a normal life more than Dean did. Dean had tried as best he could to protect Sam and give his little brother the best.

Right now, together again, Sam was everything. Even when apart, Dean had done all he could for his brother. Putting money earned from his books and patents to Sam, disguised as scholarships and shaving off enough on rent so Sam wouldn't know but would be paying less than needed.

Dean wasn't going to tell Sam any of that.

Sam would either feel abandoned and betrayed, adding to the emotional mess he was going through on top of being an emotional guy. Or Sam would shove Dean away back to a chance at normal. Sam was too nice to people. Sam would be left alone with his grief and no one but dad to come close to understanding about his dead girlfriend. And Sam would never go to dad like that.

Anthony had his new wife now. Hermione busy too as she was looking forward to her and Ron's first kid. He twitched at the thought of missing them next time they visited, but they'd all be okay. Anthony and Darcy wouldn't hold it against him. Nor would Hermione even if he knew he'd be getting a telling off about it. Sam needed him more.

Dean looked up from scratching his head and realized Sam had took that as his answer to knowing any children. His brother was nearly laughing as he walked away.

"I'm thinking," Dean shouted.

He'll just tell the little bitch later that he couldn't think of any other kid when his kid brother was grinning at him. That'd get Sam's emotions up and assure him on how his big brother was going to stick with only him at this time. Not that Sam would realize the assurance when Dean pissed him off. Dean hurried after Sam, wanting to call him out on being the 'little' brother and a 'kid' and 'bitch' and making sure 'Sammy' knew it.

Dean snickered. Sam was too easy. Especially after four years apart.


	11. Still Jammed

With a wide sweeping glance, Sam swallowed. The pieces spread out look like a disrespected skeleton and he sent a quick prayer that they'd be fine during this homeland security stint. Then he caught the tape player his brother was fiddling with and became distracted by the oddity. Which earned him a lecture over an EMF meter like he'd forgotten during his time at Stanford. Annoyed, he snapped back at his brother, reiterating the question on design. It turned out that's what it was. Surprised, he eyed Dean's apparent pride on the device. Apparently his big brother had listened to him on going back to his love of the mechanical. Except, not really.

Sam froze as Dean's face fell at the irritation that slipped through on what his brother would call his bitch voice, watching as Dean continued searching over the plane with his homemade EMF meter. He shook his head. He hadn't meant for it to come out that way.

Not sure how to apologize about it, still awkward being around Dean again, Sam continued searching over the plane visually. He fought himself, not commenting on how the homemade EMF meter worked when Dean found something. Dean would have caught the irritation in Sam's voice he had at himself over his earlier mistake and Dean would likely misinterpret it. As soon as they were out of here, Sam's itched to check the busted Walkman himself. His brother's mechanical ability was definitely worth the praise even if Dean didn't always believe what his little brother and uncle Bobby said all those years ago. Maybe that would make up for his accidental tone later. Apologies and accepting them always made it worse with Dean, even if Sam itched to say it out loud. Then Dean wiped off the grimy mysterious residue he touched from the plane's emergency door handle onto Sam. That did it. Sam forced his mouth shut. Apology bill fitted. Screw making sure Dean knew his issue was the not going to MIT and wasting his talents.

* * *

Sam had finally fallen asleep. It seemed as though 'Hey Jude' still did the trick, lulling Sam to sleep after playing on a local rock radio station. Dean glanced over at his kid brother. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved, what with the abnormal dreams Sam had mentioned, but he was relieved. Sam needed the rest and Dean didn't want to look too closely at the premonition of Jessica dying before the fact.

When a popping noise echoed across the Impala and tranquil security, Dean nearly swore. Knuckles tight on the steering wheel, he jerked the car back onto the right side of the road and twisted his head. Sam somehow, miraculously, slept on. Dean nearly cursed again as he spotted a certain young escape artist poking herself between Sam and him from the back seat. Allison had discovered how to use her talent to find him out on the road.

Anthony wasn't holding his time with Sam against him, but it seemed his sister had if the mixed look on her face was anything to go by. Scowling. Yet also appearing ridiculously pleased with herself, eyes lit up in excitement the longer she looked at him. Then she announced he had another niece, but she fully expected to be his favorite and one most talked to. She shoved a piece of paper at him and grinned before she popped away again. Dean blinked at the abrupt departure, expecting differently, but realized the paper held a phone number. He snorted. Little shit. Couldn't just call or text his phone, could she? He laughed to himself, shaking his head and then her first words hit him. Hermione had a daughter!

'Congratulations! Allie gave me the news. A little daughter? Bet she takes after you and will be a bright little thing. As if dim Sneakly wasn't already outnumbered.'

* * *

It felt an awful lot like his brother blaming him for leaving for college, despite the pride Sam heard for years under the nerd teasing. Except any real issue, anything really Dean at the core, it came out in fissures when Dean was overly stressed. Not calm and lecturing. Sam again demanded the shape shifter of Dean's whereabouts and worked to free his bound hands. The so called learning the shifter claimed seemed true enough with things he said, but the shifter defiantly hadn't learned Dean. It helped Sam focus past it's current appearance. Then the shifter stated Dean knew he was a freak to be ditched by everyone.

A freak? Ditched? That didn't make sense to Sam. Dean took to the life of saving people as a teenager, didn't even take Sam's suggestion of normal with MIT. And Dean was the one who continued backing Sam's learning all through growing up. Hell, even was the one to help him move in first year. Not dad, Dean.

The shifter's face twisted a bit, but nothing new was spoken other than more put downs that Dean would never say this calmly if it were a real issue. Such a fake, not even a good one, looked nothing like his brother the longer it talked. The shifter then ended it's speech with a promise of harm to Becky. Sam continued working determinedly at his bonds under the sheet the shifter threw over him, ignoring most of what it said as its piss poor rendition of Dean. The only weird bit that lingered as Sam worked was the apparent confusion it had after digging for why Dean considered himself a freak. It never elaborated on it. As if it shared Sam's lack of knowledge behind why. Sam could make an educated guess why after how they grew up. He shrugged it off, yanking at the bonds harder. He never would have guessed before that Dean felt the same over how dad raised them all across the country and into the supernatural.

* * *

With a swipe, Dean rid himself of any wet evidence of calling dad about the something in their old house possibly still there. Then he called Hermione, intent to find out if Sam's weird dream premonitions could just be a delayed thing. A delayed natural wizard thing. As expected, she scoffed, never a fan of divination.

Dean chuckled, amused at her sudden rant over the subject. Then broke in with seriousness. She went quiet, listening as he explained details behind Jessica's death and now their childhood home. As if he could really explain it well. The entire thing was freaking him out.

He wasn't the least bit calmer at Hermione's speculation. Pitcher had something similar apparently and it was due to a piece of the wizard that tried to kill him as a baby. Hermione's first guess of there being a piece of the thing that killed mom living inside of Sam was not an idea Dean wanted anywhere near his mind. She reassured him she'd research into that sort of magical ability when Rose fell asleep. Dean gave a distracted greeting to the little girl, earning an odd and gleeful squeal, then hung up feeling numb.

* * *

Aware of Sam sleeping on the motel bed near him, Dean managed to get his breathing under control in his panic. He had nothing from all of years involved in supernatural to have an answer for his little brother of what was happening to him. Not even magical. Besides Pitcher, which was a very unusual case according to Hermione, there was no recordings of any sort of premonitions tied with dreams for natural born witches and wizards. Hell, even Hermione was concerned enough with the painful headache inducing awake one Dean described in a text, to offer coming here to look over his brother.

Sam was devastated they hadn't gotten up in time to save the Miller men, thinking why else would he have these things before they happened. Damn. His little brother was stressing less than he was. But Sam felt it was his way to make it up to Jessica. He hadn't taken advantage to save her, so he was determined to save the others.

When they had been on the drive over to Roger Miller's apartment, it finally got to Sam. It had begun scaring his kid brother on why it was happening to him. Roles reversed from Sam's previous drive to save these people he dreamed about, it was Dean making reassurances then. They dealt with the supernatural everyday, they'd figure it out. And if it was something magical, well, Dean just might have to tell Sam the truth. Only if he could figure out what it was first for sure. Maybe whatever it was that suppressed Sam's abilities as a wizard had finally run its course. Anthony was closer than Hermione. So he asked Anthony to come check for Sam's magical signature while Sam was sleeping. His mate shook his head afterwards, tucking his wand back into its holster. There was nothing magical ringing up high enough to even faintly register like Dean's did at this point. Thanking Anthony and giving his well wishes for Allie and Darcy before Anthony took off, Dean fell back into the motel chair. What the hell was going on with Sam?

* * *

They grew tall. And well. Those two boys grew up to be fine men. Bobby felt for that poor girl dragged into this demon business with John, but it was damn good to see those boys again and handling her with care and concern. He'd seen too many lose those qualities after hunting so long, such as their father when he was on the trail of something or another. The well being of the victims dealing with the aftermath became overlooked or shrugged off due to it no longer affecting the hunter in question.

He pressed his numbers into Dean's palm as the boy trudged back from helping Sam with moving and giving proper respects to Meg's body. Despite Bobby saying he could do it so they could get safely away. Those boys. Dean looked at the scrap of paper and his face lightened from its tension, thanking Bobby. Those boys better stay in contact this time after damn John burned his numbers after Bobby's promise of a shotgun to that man's head.

Sam followed up shortly, his smile even wider than his brother's when Dean displayed the paper before he pocketed it. His eyes went wide in surprise at something behind Bobby suddenly. He turned about to see what, then snorted he could read whatever the hell he wanted in his free time. He gave a minute shake of his head at Dean's worry at the sight of the popular series in with all his other relaxing read picks. There was sure to be calls over them later, especially on Bobby's side notes he had on the magical series. Bobby quickly steered the conversation back to them getting a go on before the paramedics arrived.

* * *

At Darcy's giggle entering the kitchen, Anthony glanced up from the bowl of brownie mix and grinned. Heaving a large overdramatic sigh, he tapped his toe and looked to his Portable Post phone on the table. Darcy nodded. His sister was still mooning over her silent phone, growing even more impatient as the birthday turned to evening. Her letter of acceptance for next school year and her friends texting birthday wishes didn't distract her much.

Quickly, Darcy swiped a chunk of the mix out of the bowl and liked her finger clean. He wagged the spoon at her, which she snatched away and got his nose. The kiss after was pleasant and made up for it.

Allison stomped in, breaking up the kiss unknowingly as she glared at her phone. Catching the playful look on Darcy's face again, Anthony sighed and gave in. She took the offered spoon with glee, sneaking up on his sister.

"Hey! Darcy, that's not funny!" Allison rubbed the brownie off her face. Then huffed. "Uncle Dean would have liked that, I guess I should have taken a picture to take with me if he ever calls like he promised."

"Don't you think about it," Anthony warned. He recognized the look his little sister had all too well. "You know the day isn't over and he's probably busy working a case with his brother. He keeps his word, you keep yours and wait before you go see him. Wait for us all to go. And you wonder why both of us say you'd have never been Hufflepuff if you attended Hogwarts."

"I heard that," Allison shot back. "I totally would be!"

"Dean's got the right of this," he responded offhandedly as he stole the spoon back to pour the brownie mixture into the pan. He knew it would start the usual argument and distract Allison over the lack of call. Sure enough, he heard his little sister explaining all the reasons she would never be a Gryffindor, but a Hufflepuff like Dean and himself. Darcy distracted her further with asking which house she would have been in.

Concerned himself, Anthony shot Dean a reminder text message on his phone. 'Allison's getting antsy here. Busy? Or is Sam in earshot? Text is fine to hold her back from popping over to you.'

'Shit. I forgot. I'll shoot Allie a message, but I can't. I promise for you and Darcy's one year coming up. Visit then. But. I can't. I can't.'

Anthony frowned and turned away from his wife and little sister debating. He didn't want Allison picking up on this. Dean wouldn't just forget. There was an alert noise and a sudden whoop of joy behind him. 'What happened? Is it Sam?'

The responding message was a jumbled mess of confusion, but very clear in its message and he swore loudly.

"Shit?" Allison repeated curiously. He didn't swear much and saw both Allison and Darcy's eyes go wide with panic. More so Allison. "You know! You know why Uncle Dean called for a raincheck on us popping over today for my birthday! What happened?"

"Don't!" She jerked away from his barked command, startled. "Allison, just don't. I don't care if you can apparate straight to people too, don't!"

He dialed Dean's number, making to leave the kitchen for privacy, but Allison's small hurt face ate at him. Anthony looked back to her tearful face. "His dad." Her nose scrunched in dislike, clearly remembering when she called Dean and his father yelled at him about her familiar claim on her 'Uncle Dean'. Anthony didn't blame her either. He wasn't a fan of Dean's father either. But. "His dad passed away Allison."

Then he left completely, focused entirely on his emotionally shaken mate, trying to comprehend his father's last words and death and hold it all together for his brother.

* * *

Author's note :

Reading over a few of your reviews that give me a grin every time I get one, there seems to be a trend of dislike going on. Poor Sam. I'm sure Dean would thank you all for your support, especially if you're a pretty lady, but he's always going to downgrade the rank of his personal feelings compared to Sammy. And honestly, it is kind of all Dean's fault that Sam treats him like he does because he rarely opens up and keeps hiding his own times and versions of normal happiness. Not to mention, Sam hasn't been around Dean in four years, since a just turned 18 years old. Even if he has taken leadership roles at college while away from his dad and brother, Jessica just died. Complain all he wants, Sam needs the feeling of being looked after and taken care of right now. Then you add in the weird dreams that started up right before. He's going to be off in his loss and not always say the right thing when he tries to joke again. Down people. You're making me feel really bad for Sam. He's still the kid brother now. Give him a few years to grow up and start really demanding to be treated equally instead of bitching and complaining like the kid he still is. Dean preserved as much of Sam's childhood that he could too. Poor Dean. Ya'll question his Sammy raising? :P


	12. Down the Barrel

With a wince, he shrugged and then smirked at the angry preteen. Eleven years was a big deal after all! A newspaper wrapped present flicked out from behind his back and Allison perked up. She gave Dean a swat after taking the offered late birthday gift, telling him off before tearing it open to find a flanel button up of red and yellow plaid. She immediately put it on, regardless of the still hot summer weather, and clung to his arm as she thanked him.

She didn't mind much when he snorted at her and ruffled her hair. She minded a bit more when him and her brother laughed at her after Dean ribbed her over the colors. Yellow, Hufflepuff. Red, Gryffindor. She was _not_ Gryffindor. Never would be. Which he snickered over the fact she could equally never be a Hufflepuff either.

Whatever. Allison went inside to help Darcy with finishing up on the fruits and vegetables to set out for the barbeque year anniversary. Peeking, she grinned at seeing her Uncle Dean having a good time catching up with Anthony and the rest. It was great to have him back. Figuring he spent enough time hugging and teasing his like-a-sister Hermione, Allison raced back out. Like a flag over her head, she waved the bag of chips she convinced her brother they had to get. And in seeing Darcy come out with the vegetable tray, he claimed she was his favorite Rickett girl. Allison beamed. She couldn't wait until her brother gave Dean the news. Then Allison could tell Dean she was trying to sell them in naming her new nephew-to-be Paul, like Impala.

* * *

Ash squinted over at the elder brother, studying him, understanding the disbelief but liking the rest. A fellow hacker of MIT, dutiful and protective brother, introducer of the great BustyAsianBeauties, and creator of the stellar bikini inspector badge. He'd been wanting to properly converse with John's eldest far beyond even meeting padre Winchester. Making him out to be a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie was icing on the proverbial cake for Ash.

Unfortunately, the man disappeared with little and taller bro for a hunt before Ash ventured back out for a fresh beer. Disappointed, he strutted back to work again for Ellen's viewing pleasure. She laughed. It was good. But he'd been looking real forward to a bit of side convo with big bro Winchester and show off how to better work the hacks. Well, Ash grinned when the bros came back in. At least the current hacka-lacking guaranteed Dean returning. So he sent the man a strong look when Dean began asking and reaching for his laptop.

What really got Ash's interest was how Sam reacted to finding out he attended MIT, then Dean's slight shift. It seemed little and taller bro had no clue about Dean's time at MIT, keeping an eye on his grades and setting up the false scholarships and housing assistance set ups. John said Sam broke it off from family and hunting, thus the hiding from Dean when Ash spotted the hacks from his former place of higher education. But now? Huh. All in the past, water under the bridge? He resolved to only speak of tech stuff if Dean spoke up himself or if out of the loop wasn't around them in the future. He stole the man's left behind beer bottle. Waste not. He grinned as he watched Dean go, knowing and glad to know there'd be and inevible return from the man. After all, his digging onto that MIT hacker's main subject of interest was what led Ash to the hunting community.

* * *

The car was fixed, they had a case, and future baby Rickett would have a classics great name. Dean whooped loudly as the tape hit 'Back in Black'. Sam, amused, teased and ribbed him. Dean didn't care, it was great things were looking up after the mess Dad's last words caused him. His miracle recovery right before that like a demon dea—nope. Not going there. Not today.

Baby, job, and classics. He was good. He was great. He was awesome. Sam had no cause for side looks and worry and concern on diving too far into the case rather than do the chick flick yakking on Dad. Dean shoved and buried those thoughts under the joys of today. Baby, job, and classics.

When Gordon commented on Sam being different and hunting being in the blood, it gave Dean pause. Even if they disagreed earlier, there wasn't anything wrong with Sam. Sam was why, caring, digging for knowledge and understanding. Gordon, the driven hunter to save people like Dean was, admitted to killing his sister after she was turned vampire. Stunned, Dean stared. Too far. This guy dove too far. He almost dove too far. All for trying to ignore gray matter. Sam had the right of it. And right then, Dean found his resolve to go against Dad's last order. The black and white Dad taught them growing up was...wrong. It felt good to think that, solidifying the thought process for both magical and supernatural. Even if Sam became black side as Gordon or other hunters would see, there was no way who Sam was would ever be so wrong that Dean would kill his own brother. Never. Little pain in his ass turned it around today, saved him from diving too far. He hit Gordon one last time. He'd never become that. For even considering it... Damnit. Sam should have taken up the offer to clock him. Dean deserved it. He really deserved it. He hated Dad for all this and really wanted Sam to punch the daylight out of him.

* * *

Blinking hard at tears, Sam stared at the floor. It was in him. Blood entered his injury. Infected. Virus. Croatoan. No. He could hear Dean pacing, his brother's words angry and scared. Dean. He could possibly hurt Dean, turn him, put this thing in his brother. No. There was no way Dean would kill him first and Sam didn't want to add that onto Dean, no matter how much being a hunter defined his brother.

Strengthening his voice, he demanded that Dean give him the gun and leave.

It gave him relief to hear Dean absolutely refusing, threatening anyone who tried to make a move on him. That was his big brother for you. Then he felt sick to his stomach for being relieved at Dean putting him first. To place his death in protecting his little brother, the same little brother who would attack soon due to the demonic Croatoan virus. Staying with Sam until the very last, telling the rest to take his car, his baby, and leave. Reassured by Dean's presence, Sam still felt the remorse for what was to come and began crying, asking, begging, telling his big brother to not do this and give up. Sam wasn't dumb to realizing this past year just how much Dean raised him, worried over him, and gave up for him growing up. Without Dad, without a little brother, Dean could have a life. But Sam wasn't smart enough to realize his demand destroyed Dean's life until after Dean absolutely refused. The tears came faster at seeing how Dean preferred to die at his hands. And how quickly his big brother accepted it.

* * *

There wasn't much Anthony could say to Dean to calm him down. Dean was far too amped up on how Sam had pushed him into the promise, the same promise and order he'd not long ago shoved out of his mind. The oldest and youngest Winchesters didn't know his best mate all that well if they thought Dean would actually kill his own little brother. This was the same kid Dean practically raised and was a brother hen over and threw away his own chance of normal at Hogwarts because little Sammy couldn't have it too.

Sam being recently possessed by a demon probably didn't help Dean either. Although antsy Allison would certainly like the new necklaces Dean mass got them all.

He grinned, goofy. His own little sibling was distracted at the moment to get into any trouble and he... Anthony was in blissful disbelief. When Dean asked why Anthony called, Anthony's fault for always asking how Dean was to earn that earful worry, he let loose a breathy stutter of a laugh. Before his mate could worry on his mental health or poke fun, Anthony said 18.8 inches. And 7.9 pounds. Dean whooped suddenly from his end, bursting with questions and congratulations. Angus Paul Rickett had arrived. He was a father! He and Darcy had a son! Gleeful at Dean sounding just as excited as him, Anthony, for once, was the one talking Dean's ear off.

* * *

He thought this djiin wish was great. It wasn't perfect, but real. Dean could work with that. A life without hunting, a life without that fire which forever changed the lives of the male Winchesters. Except, they never hunted. All those people they worked so hard to save, dead. Everyone he met because of hunting. Ellen had not a clue when he called. Bobby thought it a prank. Sonny didn't know the kid he called D-dog.

Anthony's number was not a phone in usage. Did Dean not attend Hogwarts? Or modify cellular phones? He got a hold of Darcy working with patents. A Darcy Fitzgerald. Not Rickett. She didn't know him at all, but he managed to talk her into looking up Anthony and Allison Rickett. His name was recorded. That's why she agreed to look them up. Hogwarts dropout after five years, Gryffindor, which what the hell? No Sam again. His patents still held up, duh Dean, how did you get a hold of Darcy? While he waited for Darcy to find his mate, Dean dug through a box marked with 'Oz' and found only a couple of pictures, both with the pompous jerk the year below him in Hufflepuff. What the?

Darcy found them. Anthony and Allison never came to America. They'd been dead for almost 9 years. This djiin wish wasn't so great. He slumped down, pulling at his hair as he cried, still somehow happy that his mom was alive. His throat tightened. Did that make him a terrible person? That as much grief he held on losing Sam and Anthony and Allison and Hermione and all those saved lives...he was still happy his mom was alive?

* * *

Bobby hated this. Whole thing. John passing was bad enough. He may not have been John's biggest fan, but he'd felt something. Mostly how badly it affected the boys.

And he'd seen that son of a bitch when the gates of hell opened.

It had Bobby seething, pissed, but sad. That was what Dean had to look forward to a year from now. As much as he had a heavy hand in raising those boys, Dean always took stubborn pride over Sam. Damned if he, or Sam for that matter, believed the value Dean had on his own sense of importance. Arrogant and cocky that boy could be, he didn't see his own value with how much he took to heart of those near to him.

"Give me your phone," Bobby demanded sharply as soon as Sam was out of sight. Ellen's head snapped up from handing some tiny and bright tech thing marked for Dean from Ash. Bobby glared at him, motioning to Dean's other hand. "Now boy. I ain't dealin' with any more of you being an idjit."

"This have something to do with the weird looks over at Sam lately," Ellen asked astutely. Dean winced at it and Bobby pressed.

"Shall I include Ellen for you Dean?"

Dean shifted nervously, inching away from Ellen. "Wait, hey! Bobby! What the hell?"

"Put a cork in it," he grumped back. He scrolled the list of contacts off of Dean's phone, growing annoyed. "Where is he?"

"Where's who," Dean snapped back. His fist clenched over Ash's tiny tech thing. "You swipped my phone."

"Pitcher? Is that Potter? Let's see how much is true in the newest one. You ever find out if he died?"

"Oh yeah, that always turns up in conversation."

"Watch your snark with me boy," he snapped.

Dean looked abashed, shoulders slumping. "Sorry Bobby. I just... Yeah, that's him. I don't think he's quite as bad as me with how Hermione talks, but he's gotten close more times than a normal person does."

"Either one of you two mind clueing me in?" Ellen's voice cropped up with her own annoyance. "This some hunter who specializes in demons or do I have to start making threats? I got no problem aiming a weapon at someone's hand. Don't look at me like that, I had dreams of being an RN, all those tiny delicate tendons and bones?"

Dean slide his feet farther away from Ellen. This was new to Bobby. He turned his head from Ellen to Dean as the phone began ringing. There was a hint of fear on Dean's face. The boy _was_ scared of the Roadhouse lady. Former Roadhouse, Bobby corrected with a flash of pain. "You, uh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

The woman flicked her eyes to Bobby and his mouth twitched, smirking. She wasn't stupid that Ellen. Wasn't too difficult to figure he knew and believed it, as ridiculous as it may be for her to wrap her own mind around the belief. Course, Bobby had known since Dean was a scrawny preteen, made it a bit easier. Still, Bobby knew Ellen enough. That excuse wasn't going to cut it for her.

Ellen crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Dean, who flinched. "Try me."

Voicemail. Balls. Bobby took a moment to study the number and memorize it to dial later, nearly going buggy eyed as he saw Dean's mouth fumbling. Told Sam it was like Santa, years keeping it from his little brother and he cracked now? Either showed how stressed Dean was, how much Bobby tearing into him earlier affected him, or Ellen just was that damn scary for him. He should ask Ellen if Dean ever made a move on Jo. That would have probably done it.

"Uh, um, those popular magic books and movies about a kid, um, he's not a character. A natural wizard. Wand, knack out of trouble, whole thing I think from the books from what Bobby's read. Real. I, uh, I kind of know the guy."

Bobby snorted. "You had a barbeque in August with him."

It was entertaining to hear Ellen calling the idea of born with magic complete crap, then turn right around to demand details of how Dean knew Harry Potter. If she only knew the Wizarding Wireless discussed and used by these natural witches and wizards in the book series, was in fact due to Dean. All Dean cared about was that he wasn't in the book, glad it was only the soccer freak Dean Thomas mentioned. His school buddy made it into it as well. It was worrisome on how these books came to be. Dean said Hermione told him the author was under some unusual protection, but showed no sign of thinking it anymore than a story. The magical leak to the writer had yet to be found and it had grown too far to cover up now.

"Does that kind of magic even work against supernatural?"

"That's what I'm aiming to find out," Bobby stated.

"No. No Bobby. I can't squelch out of the deal or—"

"Demon deal?" Ellen's eyes went wide. "Dean you can't have bought—"

"Or what, Sam dies?" Dean's eyes said everything to that question. "I ain't you and you may think giving your life for your brother is the only way for it to mean something, but let me tell you boy, I certainly don't see you that way and there are plenty more who put plenty of worth in your sorry ass in thinking you matter! What are the rest of them going to think when they hear what you've done?"

Dean stood there, taking Bobby's shot at him again, not fighting back at all. Bobby shook him, angry at Dean always taking shit like this and glad he had the chance to get it across without smart aleck remarks. "We're not you, so we can squelch all we want. And Sam ain't stupid boy, he's gunna find out. Damnit Dean. How much are you not going to tell him in life? And how much is too far in protecting Sam, because I will tell you, it wasn't a fun conversation on the phone after the two of you got out of that Croatoan thing with him."

He wasn't too surprised to find Sam cornering Dean at the Impala. "Sam, we just killed the demon. Can we celebrate for a minute?" Even Ellen snorted from where they stood eavesdropping at that sorry excuse from Dean to avoid the topic.

"You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a change."

"Yeah."

Nice moment, Bobby thought. If not for Dean dying in a year.

"And let's break their kumbaya apart before Dean ruins it."

* * *

Author's Note:

How do these updates seem to be getting longer? To Jaden Xiang. Yes, yes, yes, and were we separated twins or something? We share a few things from the sound of it.

In Dean hiding things from Sam and Sam finding out. Do you all really want me to spoil it for ya'll and Bobby with what Dean does or doesn't tell Sam? For all you know, Allison popping in to nab Dean back to the Rickett household could do it. Hermione coming to yell his ear off when she finds out the demon deal due to Harry through Bobby. Castiel bringing it up when he notices, not realizing it's a secret. Some family member recognizing Dean from Anthony and Darcy's wedding. Anthony dropping by Lisa's place for support after Sam goes into the cage and soulless Sam watching their interactions. Rowena making some snide comment that a natural talent could help in a spell. Or, you know what? Sam never finds out about the magic. Maybe the other stuff, scholarships and demon deals and Ezekiel/Gadreel, but the longest chunk of 'normal' in Dean's life...nope.

I do know where the new ending will be if that helps.


	13. To the Other Side

Lisa wasn't wrong. He was disappointed. Ben was a great kid, he would have been proud to be the kid's dad, but it was more of the idea. A wife, a house, a kid. That couldn't be his life. He would like to have a life like that to leave behind, but Dean couldn't give up the one he had. He had Sam and Baby.

Being part of things with Anthony and Hermione was his blanket of normal. They indulged him in their own lives, even spoiling Allie and their kids as the uncle he was called by.

It may not be picturesque, but it was his life to leave behind and a life he wouldn't change. At least Allie would enjoy picking him up and seeing him more than last year. He just hoped she didn't question it or Pitcher brought it up. Dean didn't want to ruin his time left, he wanted to take advantage and give the best to everyone. Dealing with Sam and Bobby wallowing in the worry was souring it enough.

* * *

Sam paused, wiping his forehead and setting the socket wrench down. On top the cooler, Dean shifted and nodded at Sam's work under the hood so far. Feeling backwards, Sam looked back to under the trunk. He'd never really been mechanical for all that he watched his brother growing up. Words and things sounded and looked familiar but he never bothered to really learn this stuff. Why would he? If he ever had a mechanical issue, he'd just ask Dean.

He lifted up the wrench again, but hesitated and leaned across the front of the Impala. What was that under the corner? It was that weird shade of iron green, a half foot stick length wrapped under the curved edge. It'd clearly had been there a while with how the metal wrapped around and slightly into it. Wait. It was a broken stick. What the hell kind of wood went that shade of metallic green? There was another one barely seen on the other back corner of the hood too.

His hand drifted toward it, feeling the smoothness of the wood and metal fitted together. A satisfied feeling in his gut shocked him. Sam jerked his hand back and stared wide eyed at it. Satisfied? If this broken thing should have him feeling anything, he wouldn't have guessed outside of the realm of sad. Forgotten, hurt, hidden away. A memory of Dean angry as a teenager niggled at the back of Sam's mind. He looked back over to see his big brother watching guardedly. And Sam left it alone. Whatever the reason or meaning was, it sent a wave of safe protective warmth and glowing with feeling special. Something he hadn't fully felt since a kid when Dean was truly everything. The same feeling Sam had when recalling Dean telling him stories of fantasy late at night.

* * *

Allison peered around the corner, watching as the last of the little kids drifted off to sleep due to awesome storytime. Lily and Hugo were still little little and fell asleep earlier along with clingy Angus. James, Rose, and Albus had become mobile and vocal enough to start monopolizing Dean's time when they were all together. Her precious alone time with her Uncle Dean was shrinking. She was actually glad they all loved him too. They better. Cause Uncle Dean was awesome. And he lit up so much when they swarmed and pestered and played with him, spoiling all of them with tons of attention.

Lack of one on one time didn't detract from Allison's excitement on staying up with all the adults for a movie night with the little kids in bed. Dean had insisted on this being their first movie to be watched on the boxy television. He'd tweaked it for Anthony whenever Allison popped him over to the Rickett household the past few months. She squished on the floor between Dean and Harry, sneaking pieces of popcorn from the bag over to Dean to toss at others. Hermione and Ginny looked equally unamused as the popcorn launched at everyone. That is until Hermione managed a switching spell, and leaving Allison with a bowl of popcorn and Dean wound up with the buttery bag yanked over his eyes.

That was all good. However, what detracted from this larger family get together was the increased amount of actual gifts. She was allowed to be suspicious and a bit ungrateful. The visits had gone up too. She used to be able to count each special time allowed to get Dean for a visit during the first two years of roadtripping with his brother. There were tally marks on her calendar this year, Allison was beginning to lose track. Anthony had the oddest look when they met eyes which was only growing in frequency as this weirdness, a welcome weirdness, but still a weirdness, continued. And Harry seemed to have a look of understanding and support that freaked Allison out. She didn't like whatever was behind her Uncle Dean's change. She didn't like it at all.

* * *

It was how Dean responded that had Sam dwelling on the witch hunt even days, weeks later. Sam had been trying to show he could do it, reassure his brother's worries on hunting without him. The gung ho attitude going after the witches seemed to worry Dean more. It's not as if Dean liked them. His brother had a particular hatred for witches. Disgusting. Not normal Sammy, not normal. Sam snorted. Like real world witches personally affronted Dean's childhood stories for Sam. He went wide eyed. Was that it? Those personally tailored stories Dean had specially made for Sam, forgoing telling stories every other 'boring' kid knew. Was that it?

Not Santa or Cinderella like his classmates growing up, and how proud he'd been to claim how his big brother was the best storyteller. A world of fantasy, supernatural creatures transformed to born that way magical. Sam loved those stories and feeling like part of it. Dean had set up moments and things to make it seem real, such as Sam helping research basilisks. It'd been forever since he actually really remembered those story details. Not just the feelings of late night safety and Dean's sole attention, but those fantasy story details. He remembered some of them! Stories delivery owls and broomstick flying games and a favorite of the persecuted werewolf teacher.

Sure, he figured it could and did turn out fake, but he remembered he'd loved Dean for selling those stories of attending a witch owl school and loved getting caught up in those tales. His brother even carried a stick on his back to sell the story, snapping it in his over the top performance when he 'left' the school when Sam was told he couldn't attend. The stick! Dean's wand! Sam lifted the hood and smiled. Not even Dean yelling across the gas station changed Sam's happy mood in discovering Dean's sentimental memento.

* * *

Maple syrup over his pancakes had grown old. Gabriel fought the huff and childish puff. Up into the hundreds and still no cry on what he was doing to the Winchester boys. Well, Sam more than big broster. Surprised at no cry out, he shouldn't be. But he knew exactly what rested around Deano's neck. He'd watched his brother gift it to their father, who liked it enough to put a bit of power into it and drop it among the humans as a rumored protective charm. Thing was, it wasn't, but it was always given to worthy protectors, like a sign of people who reminded Gabriel far too strongly of his stuffy brother Michael. It wasn't surprising that Dean had been the youngest gifted with the amulet. But what was surprising was that Dean's personality bore so little resemblance to Michael compared to the rest. He'd found the man particularly fun to antagonize and entertaining in his reactions, becoming a bit of a sweet spot.

But how many times did he have to play this construct until it got attention? Gabriel shifted in his seat, taking notice as Dean stepped toward him and the barstools, away from Sam, to mess with his cell phone. A text to an Anthony to use contacts to look into time research. Another text to a Pitcher for the same thing, sure this Pitcher could use his newfound Head Auror status to get it. Gabriel froze. Head Auror? His prophet's books released by her daughter were tied in with the Winchester books?! Pitcher, Potter, Harry Potter, who just became the youngest Head Auror of magical Britain, and was a master of Death?

After gleefully sticking Sam into his Wednesday construct, Gabriel leapt at the opportunity to chat with Deano. Accepting death, the loss of family being far worse than death to Dean, while holding onto a powerful relic? It was a possibility. Although big bro Winchester was far more fretful about little bro's wellbeing, driving Gabriel nuts that Deano couldn't enjoy his construct gift with his adopted family. Surreal. Fascinating. And still surprising. Dean hid that part of his life and his natural magic was slight enough that you had to be looking for it to find. Dean died and nothing presented itself in Gabriel's construct. Death didn't show up like he hoped. But then his brothers step in because their father 'commanded it'. Finally, attention. But not to fix anything. The opposite. Screw his family. Gabriel removed his constructs, putting the Winchesters back into the moving timestream and wiped the memories from Dean. Hell wasn't pretty. Well, at least the muttonhead he gained a sweet spot for wasn't completely doomed like Gabriel first thought. Just really uberboned. And to fuck with Sam more since the unlikable one started the mess, Gabriel left everything for the little shit to remember unlike Deano. Time to hit his bucket list or see if he could shift the final results by getting the right angel garrison captain to be the one to pull the Winchester outta hell if his idiotic brothers were going to be fighting again.

* * *

Ron slumped, properly chastised for pawing through his new cassette tapes from Dean. Even if the annoying American wasn't his favorite person in Ron's world, he was important to his wife. Not to mention a guys night out proved the moron right. While Anthony and Harry had fun, it was Ron and Dean who were the two over the moon at the concert. Ron didn't mind Dean being right that he seemed like a total classic rock guy. It got him some awesome cassette tapes and a tweaked boom box so he could listen to more of it after all.

Hermione however. He watched her pace and continue to rant about the man who was like a big brother to her. With her parents in Australia, no memories of Hermione still, Ron was concerned how she would take another family member leaving her. She'd still have his family and Harry, but this was Dean. The same man who stepped into the family role and gave Hermione away to Ron at their wedding. Ron worriedly bit at his lip watching his wife continue storming.

Not to mention how she got was when she was onto something. Hermione figured there was something and after so long of odd behavior that it was going to be terrible, so terrible that he'd duck and dodge her on the portable post phone. Anthony too. Ron took the anger, feeling he deserved some of it. He hadn't asked for details, but he was in the know of Harry finally digging into specifics of the Deathly Hallows years later for whatever was going on with Dean. Not something Ron could really assist with as he wasn't like Harry. It worried Ron, but a while ago Dean had pulled him aside, extremely anxious, insisting Ron not to worry Hermione with anything. To assuage the man, Ron gave Dean his word. Still, Ron was amused when Harry decided to drop by in the middle of Hermione's fit of raging and she turned on Harry, spotting the give away face made. Harry was a goner.

* * *

In dealing with the grief of Dean gone, Anthony had counted some blessing in the fact his sister couldn't use her apparition. That he didn't have to worry about her taking off. Allison had long been able to break rules on somehow being able to apparate to not just known places, but people. He'd given a sigh of relief when she tried after he broke the news to her, finding she couldn't apparate to Dean anymore. She was still a handful enough to be a welcome distraction from dealing with Dean's passing. Just as she had been a handful enough for him at two years old, when their parents passed away.

Until time went by and she got pissed off enough to remember Dean's brother. Whom she'd seen before. And was still alive. But Anthony didn't have Sam's phone number or a way to figure out where Dean's brother was currently.

Allison had her precious phone with her, but she, of course, wasn't answering. So he called the only other person he knew of that may know where Dean's kid brother was. He shifted Angus up, his son nearly dozing on his shoulder and wearing an AC/DC shirt. Anthony smiled a little. Dean had been euphoric, loudly claiming 'Yahtzee', and yammering on about finding the mother load in discovering a whole box of children's AC/DC shirts at a garage sale. It figured. His best mate had always had the strangest luck.

"All right Angus. Let's go see if we can find your rash auntie. Hold tight."

Bleary eyed, his son looked at him. "M'kay. Allie ruble?"

"You could say that," he muttered. "I got you. Hold tight Angus."

With that, he spun and apparated himself to the middle of the country. Sioux Falls, Singer Salvage Yard. There was a loud noise from the house, the cock back of some sort of gun. He frowned. A weapon after calling ahead? No, no. He had to be wrong about that. But that was the closest Anthony knew of from the muggle world to call the noise.

"Bobby," he called out cautiously. "Bobby Singer?"

"Smart bringing a kid along. Who wants to know?"

What the...? "It's Anthony Rickett, Dean's friend. I'm pretty sure I called you."

"Ah. Right." A bearded man stepped out of the front door, putting down a longer gun. Paranoid much? Anthony suddenly recalled how Dean mentioned how strange it was he wasn't paranoid at their house. He'd only seen him hunt that one time, so he could kind of see what Dean meant, but was this it? A rush of satisfaction filled up Anthony, glad to have been able to give that to his best mate when he was still alive. "I take it that's little Angus then? Coulda warned me you'd do that apparate thing here. With all the influx of demons lately, I almost peppered you full of salt. Well come on in. I'll get you a beer."

"No thanks." Anthony shifted Angus up, who was peering around the junkyard sleepily. "I just need to find Dean's brother before my sister does something even stupider. Last I knew, Sam still thinks I'm a character from a childhood bedtime story. Much less Allison."

"I insist. Have a drink. What's your poison?"

Anthony frowned as he followed the trucker hat disappearing into the kitchen. Since the older man Dean looked up to insisted on offering Anthony a drink in his household, he took one. Bobby Singer visibly lightened up after Anthony took a sip.

"Nice to finally met Dean's childhood friend face to face. Timing sucks but, well, Dean was always a stubborn protective ass."

"I always went with brother hen," Anthony commented. Bobby chuckled.

Then the older man's face went serious and his voice low. "Do you really not know anything about the Master of Death business?" Startled, Anthony stared, amazed the man even knew about the wizardry story the conspiracy came from. "Harry claims you don't and that Dean's Hermione is limited in it as well."

"Of course I know it. But _The Tale of Three Brothers_ is a story. Even with witches and wizards you can't cheat death. Once you're gone, you're gone. Any meddling with it isn't right and labeled dark. With some of the supernatural creatures I know of like ghouls and things like inferius in the wizarding world, Dean would be doubly pissed if brought back from the dead."

"That's a no. Damn." The man blinked, then scowled. "Now don't be gettin' me wrong. I agree with you. Thought Dean shoulda had a proper send off. But Sam would have none of it. Even with Dean dead, the boy is still trying to save his brother and get him out of the deal. Refuses to talk to me since that argument after I let the idjit bury Dean. But your Master of Death stories are like Sam's childhood stories outta Dean."

Anthony swallowed wrong at the revelation and went breathless from coughing. By the time he got his breath back, Angus was fully awake and wide eyed at him. "Daddy's good, daddy just had his drink go down the wrong pipes. Like when the toilet got fed the wrong thing."

"Daddy got socks?"

"Yes, like when you fed the toilet socks." He turned back to Bobby Singer, wide eyed. "What do you mean the Master of Death is real?"

"Just that. It's real. Except he has no idea what that actually means besides the one time of getting the option for himself to either move on or come back. And apparently only got the option because he just happened to own and hold some powerful artifacts tied in with the fact he walked to his death, fully accepting death to save a bunch of people."

Anthony goggled. "Wait, wait. Dying to save a bunch of people? You're talking about Harry, aren't you? He actually died on May 2nd?"

Bobby didn't answer that. "Sounds a bit like Dean, don't it? Accepting death to save his brother and having an old artifact on him. Don't know about power behind it, but it's got the smackings of similarities. Was hoping you might know more. Honestly, I kind of was hoping a magical way for Dean to come back like that, god knows he deserves some kind of break in life. It's why I didn't fight that hard about burying Dean instead of salting and burning. Except Sam took off with the damn amulet. Dean's Hermione and I have pretty much buried ourselves into research on the thing, talking over the phone. I only knew it as a protective charm, but apparently she took interest and got annoyed at not figuring out what it was exactly since Dean first showed up with it."

Feeling awkward, Anthony shifted. It sounded as though Bobby was like Hermione. Hoping that since Dean's death was by more unnatural causes, there was something to be done about it, there was some way out. He'd grown up surrounded by magic unlike those two. Dean was gone. Going out one of the ways Anthony feared and knew his mate would go. Either by fascination with a creature or protecting little Sammy.

"It sounds like you're stretching. Definition of normal or not aside, Dean's gone. Doing what he loved."

Bobby glared and grumped. "I'm well aware that's what I'm doing. But it ain't been easy for me with Sam taking off and not wanting to be found ontop of Dean. They're like sons to me."

Anthony winced. "I get that. I raised my sister just as much as Dean raised Sam, after losing both mum and dad. Have Angus now. I get it. You've got to focus on something, anything but them being gone. And bloody fuck, what I wouldn't give to see Dean playing with the kids, him and Allison leading some sort of messed up food sneak attack barrage at Darcy and mine's barbeque anniversary last week." He gave a choked laugh. "Pretty sure all the shirts that Angus has right now are all the AC/DC ones like this that Dean somehow managed to find."

The older man looked at Angus, huffed and snorted. "I remember him cheering about that. Sorry about that. I've always been a good hand into research and it's something of a hope, that maybe Dean is okay and not...suffering."

"Yeah. And you don't know where Sam is either, do you?" That had to have the father figure to Dean beyond freaking out.

"Idjit. No, sorry. But you did say your sister has her phone on her?" Anthony nodded. Bobby shifted and got up. "I can track that. Maybe both of us can find those who don't want to be found today, eh? It's not like you have much a mind for us regular folk or supernatural to tango with Sam if you had gone off to find him yourself. Didn't even notice I laced your drink with holy water to double check you weren't a demon popping in and claiming to be you," he muttered under his breath.

Anthony heard, but didn't take offense to the words, more glad in understanding why Bobby had been so insistent a guest be treated to a drink. Pecking at buttons on a device Dean was sure to know more than Anthony, Bobby soon pointed.

"Pontiac, Illinois. Huh. Your sister's right about where Dean's grave sits."

Anthony sighed in relief. "Oh good. Darcy and I took a portkey out there to leave a pie on his grave. I've been there before. Apparation is much better than chancing being seen flying over all that land or driving. I'll leave the driving to Darcy."

"You two left a pie on his grave," Bobby asked with amusement.

"What? You think Dean would have preferred cheesy flowers?"

Bobby chuckled. "Naw. But that boy's probably rolling in his grave at such a waste of good food."

Anthony laughed then. "Good point."

One of the many phones hanging on the man's wall rang. Bobby reached over and picked up. "Yeah? Yeah? Who's 'me'?" The man's face quickly turned from it's former humor and he slammed the phone back onto the wall.

"You get going and call me if you run across Sam. I apologize that our meeting face to face wasn't very pleasant." The phone rang again. "Excuse me, but I have a potential person to hunt down and terrorize."

As Anthony headed out the door, he heard Bobby's irate voice. "Who is this? This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya."

Must be a spam or annoying prank phone call, Anthony figured. Dean always got creative with answering those and in his prank calling with Allison. James had picked that up from 'Uncle Dean' and 'Cousin Allie' and began prank calling people on any phone in reach. Harry thought it was hilarious. In receiving several, not so much for Hermione. Guess Bobby Singer was the same, although Anthony was thinking the man would be more likely than Hermione to follow through on his threats. James was very much aware of his get out of it cute kid card against his aunt.

With a spin, he held tight to Angus, who'd fallen asleep again, and apparated, making note to call not just Bobby, but talk to Harry and Hermione soon.

And then he saw the grave site.

All thoughts of calling anyone disappeared from Anthony's head. Trees flattened, dirt thrown, a hole in the ground. It was like someone blew up Dean's grave. He heard a car start up from somewhere nearby, but no idea where or to see if they were the bastard responsible for this. Who would do something like this to a graveyard? Disrespect bodies in such a way?

Then he saw Allison collapsed on a fallen tree, her mouth wide in shock. "Allison!"

Waking, Angus's head shot up. "Allie!"

Blonde hair smacked at her face, tangling with the five star pentagram necklace. "Ididn'tdoit! I didn't do this! Who did this? I just got here! And that's Uncle Dean's! What happened!"

Reaching her, he hugged her to his chest and she started crying. Blubbering, she kept talking and Anthony let her.

"I was gunna yell at him. I wanted to yell at Sam. But he was talking about demon activity going on. Going on here. Near where Uncle Dean was buried! And there was this other lady and it got weird and so I came here and look at this!"

Angus began crying too at his shoulder. Anthony looked away from his son and sister, overwhelmed by the sheer destruction and questions it raised.

Still overwhelmed that when Dean's phone number called him the following day, Anthony didn't even blink.

"Death?"

"Angels thought I was too good looking for it," Dean joked nervously. "Uh, sorry I was late to you and Darcy's third anniversary barbeque?"

Dean. The phone fell from his hands and he stared at it laying on the floor. That was Dean.

Anthony's breath shook. His phone started making worried enquiries, panicking. That was really Dean.

For the first time since Dean died, Anthony sobbed, sliding onto the floor, breaking down, loud gasps for air shaking him as he bawled.

Dean was alive.

* * *

Author's Note:

This thing just keeps growing. Bigger every time.

Question though. Has anyone else wondered what Gabriel did with Dean for all those months he had Sam stuck in his construct? Made a story on it? I've always wondered. Because it honestly does appear as if Gabriel got a sweet spot for Dean and really disliked Sam. Sam remembered every death. Dean, not one. All that death before Dean's time up from the demon deal? It was like Gabriel WANTED someone to notice. Because he kept on even though he got bored by it. He only stopped it six months in. Timing fits of right about when angels were going after Dean in hell. There has to be something to that, right?

Allie finally did something so stupid, Sam would have found out! I bet you all were hoping for it! Nope. Just lots of pointless theory talk. Pointless...heh, riiiiiight.


	14. Bat Out of Hell - Shot to Hell

Despite learning he was alive and granted permission see him, Allison scowled darkly up at him in silence. She was mad. As if all she went through didn't matter and he wanted to joke it off. Dean may have felt enough to give in so easily in allowing her to pop over, not making her wait until later but giving excuses to his stupid brother in the same breath as telling her she could come over. And here he was, joking how terrible it was that his brother kept buying the heading-out-for-a-good-time-with-a-woman excuse.

Allison took the perfume bottle she brought this time out of her pocket. For the first time, she was glad about the mix up her brother had that left her stuck with it. Two words: hellish awful. Even she never brought this one to spritz on Dean. Apparently, she was right to be suspicious about popping him to their house so many times last year. He deserved this. And being called a selfish pig. Maybe not for the same reason his stupid brother did, but a selfish pig for not owning up to what he did. What he did for his stupid brother, the stupid brother who actually was being a selfish pig when Dean was dead. From what she saw.

Unscrewing the top behind her back, she motioned with her finger and cupped her hand to her mouth as if to whisper. Dean went for it, leaning close. His eyes went wide, but remained motionless as she dumped the entire thing over his head. Allison glared, silently daring him to joke again, to disregard her feelings. His lips quirked up, like he was amused but it didn't reach his eyes. Then Dean apologized and said she better feel better because that destroyed his brand new nose. Allison nodded, squeezing him tightly. She and Darcy had much practice with wand work to get rid of smells thanks to Angus. Dean did not. Because although she felt better, she hoped he had to live with the smell and cracks from his stupid brother for days. Days.

* * *

Seeing things from the 1973 perspective was already surreal and Dean had only gotten a cup of coffee. Coffee from, how old was John Winchester in 1973? Then Dean spotted a young baby, his girl, the Impala. The car dealer walked off and his father rubbed the headlights of the beige VW van.

No one leaves baby in a corner. Especially not John, peeking looks, or Dean's admiring gaze. She was so young and beautiful.

There wasn't no army men or legos yet. Nor the initials of the two boys she would house. And when he lifted the hood to show her off to his father, no extra bit of magic to aid in her longevity and great condition to last her more than 10 years after his father said it was time for a new vehicle. And despite her surprise at not seeing the promised van, she still smiled, checking the Impala out. Mom.

* * *

Castiel knew he wasn't to question orders. As captain of his garrison he preferred that from those under him as well. Orders were followed. It made life simpler. Most certainly much simpler than when he pondered his life and orders and beliefs. He actually enjoyed it, the time to observe all of nature and pondering it all. As long as he followed orders given, he figured he could put guilt of indulging aside and not worry if he was somehow...unfit.

Due to the order to pull Dean Winchester out of hell and follow the human's orders, Castiel had been spending lots of time observing and thinking about him. About humankind. He'd watched humans before, found a solace in it, but never for such an extended period of time. The Winchester was...intriguing. He was a series of contradictions, odd remarks, but filled with something solid. A man to count on, very grounded Castiel thought humans would call him.

However, humans, Dean Winchester especially, confused Castiel. He couldn't quite figure out the man he followed the orders of currently. Questioning orders from a superior didn't feel wrong when Castiel thought about Dean Winchester. It seemed so insignificant, the order to never mention he'd read another prophet's books. But Dean Winchester commanded Castiel with such a panic, to never mention words like apparate and portkey to the younger Winchester. Complaints on his flying being worse than a natural magic's way was insulting enough to Castiel. He followed it, not understanding why. Sam Winchester seemed aware enough to complain about the newest movie based off the Potter gospel. Humans were an odd bunch.

* * *

'Hey little sis. Did Pitcher get rid of that piece from baby killer?' His hopes weren't high considering his luck, but Dean sent the text anyway. Sam would hedge and haw petulantly, but he trusted Hermione to rush on all emotional and scholarly cylinders. Dean had belief for the better things even if his hopes weren't high. So he'd never asked about the similarities between Sam and Pitcher, didn't want to believe Sam could have a piece of the demon in him. Until now. Sam never told Dean he'd known it when Dean brought it up, which pissed him off. All this time Dean could have known the cause and Sam pulled a freaking Sam over it.

'Oh, I'm so sorry Dean. On May 2nd he did. It's all theories, nothing guaranteed and as you say, magical and supernatural are two different things. Besides, you'd never let anyone you cared about test it if you have anything to say about it. I'm so sorry I can't help with your brother from how Harry managed it. Sam has a bit of that demon in him?' And true to Hermione, she knew what he meant in asking and researched it. Well, been researching for years, Dean corrected as he cursed his luck several times over.

'Unless you know a better way to convince my moronic brother demonic anything can be used for good, don't worry about it. Worst come to worst, I'll knock some sense into Sammy. I got Sam, don't you worry Hermione. Talk later. Say hi to Rosie and Huey.'

* * *

It was rich hearing Dean give him crap for his brief magician phrase at thirteen. Dean played wizard for Sam past that age. It was memory of those stories that Sam thought of being a stage magician. He'd taken issue with slight of hand for picking pockets Dad and Dean taught him, so he thought to make honest money with the skill rather than stealing it.

Sam lifted the hood of the Impala before they left Iowa, giving crap right back. Suddenly wide eyed, his brother snarled and slammed it shut. Surprised? Did Dean really think Sam had forgotten those stories? That Sam didn't know what that broken bit of wood hidden under the hood meant? From how he reacted when Sam said, apparently.

His brother turned shifty, saying he'd made it up. That Sam looked at him with big puppy eyes before he left for late night training with Dad. It was obvious Dean was lying. Avoiding as he did when it came to talking about feelings. But, more somehow. Sam tucked his childhood stories from Dean for later, not sure how to pry further with no other hints around the topic. What was behind it? Had these sorts of stories been told to Dean from their mom?

* * *

Questioned, not fully trusted. Not trusted for doing what he was ordered, which was following Dean Winchester's orders. Castiel hadn't done anything against orders, maybe pause for the Winchester to have more time in situations, but his superiors felt he felt sympathy for the human. He had. The pressures of living up to ending what was started, Castiel was glad it wasn't him in that position. So, sympathy, yes. But he'd still done as ordered from all superiors.

When he found Uriel leading the garrison to choose a new superior, Lucifer, or kill them, he was...upset. Not surprised. But upset at the killings. Upset at none of their actual superiors questioning or acting against Uriel's disobedience. Like an approval. Leading the world to the apocalypse. Aiming to destroy and have Dean Winchester, the key to all this, killed. His fist clenched. This wasn't right!

After, he had the most open conversation with the man since their first meeting. No pushing leverage, displays of angelic power. Just...speaking. Not angel to human, but one person to another, both wanting right, both confused over the how. Against us. He said Uriel was working against us. Not until hours later, going back over his thoughts and actions, did Cas realize he meant us with the man he had been speaking with, with Dean. Uriel had been working against him and Dean, not him and his fellow angels, but him and Dean. He realized he doubted. Doubted what was going on in heaven and choose Dean over them all. He was with Dean, stumbling along, but filled with certainty in their aim of stopping the apocalypse. For the first time, in a very long time, Cas felt like he fit.

* * *

When Dean said he needed to call her instead of explain over a text, Hermione knew it was going to be up there. Sure, there were various calls between them. Not all were serious. In fact, Dean managed a feat both impressive and not difficult to manage in having the most normal conversations. Probably due to him calling just because he could pester his 'little sister'. Ron always rolled his eyes, claiming both she and Dean's faces lit up the same way when spotting or hearing each other.

She talked about Rose reading, Hugo tying his shoes. How Ron talked her into a trip to a record store for more classic rock. Went off on her current research and theories of his pendant. Told him how the British Ministry still disclaimed his books and EMF meters. Her search results on if Dean's grandmother had been a witch or squib, after he'd spotted _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ by Laurenzoo and _Cooking the Muggle Way_ by Mordicus Egg on Deanna Winchester's bookshelf when he time traveled. There was probably an explanation in an American attending Hogwarts with his yet unsolved family history. Muggle was the British term after all, not the American term.

Dean waited. That was the scary bit as she trailed off. He finally spoke. Hermione stuttered. Well, she knew it was going to be up there. But to find out both Harry and Dean had their lives written by prophets, well, there were new levels of crazy attempting to fit into her life. Okay, Hermione was biased. Phone calls from Dean could level up there with Harry and Ron and all her brother-in-laws. They just typically...didn't. Unlike the rest of the boys in her life, always calling her in a panic and begging for her help. Archangel. Well...that explained the unusual protection the wizards who tried to reach the author complained about.

* * *

With her brother distracted with paperwork and Angus clinging onto Darcy, Allison took it upon herself to text out the news. First person first, Dean. Followed shortly with Hermione. At some point, Hermione had become a strict aunt for her. Allison wasn't sure when, but it made both Dean and Hermione happy when she started calling Hermione an aunt, so she just shrugged any explanation for it off.

Speaking of aunts, Allison was an aunt herself all over again. Hopefully this new little nephew wouldn't have as tight a grip as Angus did.

Darcy named this little guy with Anthony's approval this time. It was an all right name, but pretty typical. At least Angus stood apart from the plainer Rickett names of Anthony and Allison or her dad's Andrew. It was funny, this new nephew being born early, as if it knew it should be in a month starting with the letter too, just like its big brother had been born in August. She grinned a little when Dean texted her back. It seemed like he agreed with her on the name of Adam. No awesome or comment on it, just 'Oh' and that was it.

* * *

Dean couldn't stress how much he hated flying. After all the crap of Sam doing what he did, doing what he thought would end it all, to do right, walking out on Dean and believing the bitch demon Ruby. Putting that knife in her was a long time coming. The worst, the worst that could have happened after this year of trying to stop seals from breaking and Sam's broken face at realizing what had just happened. Just happened. And now they were mysteriously away from the exploding results, stuck on a plane right above and shaking from the aftermath.

Fuck flying. He was kissing the ground the minute they got out of the airport terminal. And in a sure sign of the apocalypse, Sam didn't say anything or give him any crap about it. A group of men in security uniforms jogged right for them and Dean's queasy stomach lurched as he leapt up.

Sam tensed, freezing when sandy hair's hand halted the group. Dean stared, surprised he could feel surprised. Quickly, he reassured Sam he had it covered and strode over. Anthony went straight to the point. What did you do? It reminded Dean of school, Anthony chasing him down and chiding him over his creature obsession. For a second, he felt that insulted teenager surge up. With a glance back toward Sam, Dean huffed and said any demand for information would have to wait, he'd call later out of his brother's earshot. Anthony confused him with changing routine. No demanding or no excuses taken attitude, but snorted, saying a delayed report wouldn't be an issue. Anthony jerked a thumb back. They looked. And both rolled their eyes at the younger Aurors excitedly nudging and pointing at Dean.

* * *

Breathless, Hermione poured over the books. She finally got approval to the archives for Christianity. Religious studies were marked differently in the wizarding world, which made some of her previous searches hit and miss. There wasn't much to what witches and wizards had over this subject, but what there was jived with what Dean had told her. The guy claiming to be an angel, one on Dean's side rather than the angelic side, was even in the archives. Real, with a tie to the Norse god Loki, which had Hermione reeling. Could Loki be just as real as Castiel? And there was Michael the Archangel mentioned right along with Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel.

With the tidbits Dean had spoken of and with what she could research, things were taking shape. However, she felt the given answer for his pendant was far too easy. God? She would have an easier time believing it with someone a little less big, she'd even take Michael. Which, not really. Warrior and protector, sure. Leader against Lucifer's forces of hell? Weighing souls, laying final judgement to those deceased? Even with angels correct by the books in needing vessels to function on Earth, Hermione didn't agree Dean fit with Michael. Or, better phrased, Michael didn't match up to Dean.

As Archangels, Michael and Lucifer were close, brothers. Like Dean and Sam. Dean would never fight against those close to him. Perhaps to knock some sense into them, but he'd always fight _for_ them. Surefire way to make positive Michael and Lucifer never had their fight to destroy the world right there. Put the entire world, Dean's loved ones in danger? To top it off, they said Sam was the vessel for Lucifer. Why were the angels so surprised and pissed Dean refused? Michael was a protector himself, except apparently, he cared more for his other titles and leading as judgmental arsehole warrior. If it meant angels digging heels in, thinking Dean was their chosen one, Hermione knew they'd lose. She closed the books resolutely, then sighed with annoyance as she left her office to pester Harry. He was just as lost on the subject, but she couldn't _not_ cover all her research bases and ask if he could see if it were possible Death recognized an artefact of God.

* * *

Cas listened carefully as Dean spoke of the future he visited, thinking over what he knew. He was able, with certainty, to tell Dean it would never happen. Dean's face lifted up, eyes flicking with hope. It was a good ploy in showing people near Dean losing their lives to pressure him to say yes. But sacrificing people in a move like that was not a move Cas saw Dean making, although, he had to give it to Zachariah, Michael had and would make that move. Zachariah did not know Dean well enough to see key differences. He only saw a future version of Michael. Dean's face puffed, jaw ticking in anger and snarled.

Curious, Cas asked what he meant by Zachariah creating a fake future just to fuck with Dean. The rush of pride in causing Dean to laugh outdid his confusion. Dean didn't clarify on what he said, so Cas turned his gaze out the Impala's window, starting to see why Dean preferred driving to flying. It gave time to study the world and think. And the vehicle gave the cozy family feeling. Cas was glad the man finally reached out to his brother.

He was warming up to Dean's brother, seeing how Sam's deplorable actions didn't define who Sam was. After all, Cas acted against his fellow angels for similar reasons to Sam drinking demon blood. Trying to do right. Curious, Cas brought up all Dean asked of him in regards to Sam. All the little things Dean insisted on. One waved off after another as being the big brother, it was Dean's job to worry, not Sam. Dean's job to protect or that Sam always came first. Then quiet. Guilt flashed across Dean's face, a face unable to look over to Cas . Alarmed, Cas asked about the Potter gospel concerning Sam again. Dean grinned and laughed at how gullible Cas was. Peeved, Cas stared, unamused, then sat up in interest when Dean finally gave clarity on his earlier phrase. A more profane way to say someone is messing or tricking you. That made so much more sense.

* * *

He reached up to touch his amulet, then remembered he'd thrown out the so-called God trinket. After all this time of thinking it could be more, it shot up his belief for better things. Probably should inform Hermione it'd been worthless. Dean groaned at the thought of telling her that, but took out his phone and saw he had a message. It took Dean a moment as he listened to the voice mail from the unknown number, then he sat up straighter. The kid apparently took the FBI business card he'd left for the parents last fall. Jesse Turner's voice informed Dean he was still safe, going from place to place in foster care and helping orphans if they were being hurt. Dean grinned. Looked like the kid took his X-Men comment to heart, using his powers to be a hero for underdogs. Jesse paused, then said something about a nice pair looking to adapt him, concerned about staying in the same spot for too long and how much he liked the nice pair visiting him. He liked how they already looked out for him. They'd noticed he needed a new toothbrush and got him one.

The kid was hard to forget. Jesse turned Cas into an action figure. Dean snickered. He'd taken a picture and saved it of course. Then sent it to see if anyone bought the lie of him actually managing a major transfiguration. Hermione's husband was the only one idiotic enough to buy it. Dean was so terribly out of practice and even as a kid, preforming the spells were difficult and when 'perfected' took about five times to actually take. He'd told Anthony to shut it when Anthony was being cute reminiscing about it last barbeque.

Actually, there was an idea. With Jesse's powers working off of what the kid believed, he could do it. Lay claim as a natural born wizard. Every wizarding society was kept separate from the rest of the world, which was one of Bobby and Hermione's theories behind the differences on shared creatures. A magical/supernatural Darwinism. Demons were not a shared feature. It might actually help Jesse stay off the map from demons while being off the map. Dean frowned. Stay off the map while being off the map? Whatever. Dean dialed the number back. A legit thing to have and claim what Jesse's powers were to people. Including parents. Kids should have stability, rather than drifting around from place to place with no connections. Said no personal experience whatsoever, none. And he scowled when his hand moved to touch the amulet again. At least he could help Jesse to what he apparently could not have. Because who the hell was he kidding? Believing in better things were for others.

* * *

It hadn't taken long to hear how Dean Winchester stood up to big bro Mikey and took out little snot Zachie. Gabriel was both upset and impressed with Dean. So when he got wind of the pagan meeting, he took Kali up on the invite. He'd do what he could to keep them safe from his older brothers and hope it didn't come to a fight. Because he was pretty sure he'd get drawn into family drama this time. He'd never forget standing under the sprinklers, alone, lit holy oil long gone, burning hot rage and shocked at Dean's words. Afraid to stand up to his family? Afraid?

He'd been startled to see Mikey's gift to God no longer resting against Dean's chest. No matter. Willingly sacrificing himself while wearing the item and dying while wearing the item, well, that technically made him a master of Death. A connection to Death, an opening. Deano had an advantage to get a hold of Death's ring. Lucy had to have realized, because Gabriel was sure he bound Death, disrupting the connection. The idiot.

They were no master of Death and thus, unable to cart favor, unlike Deano or itty Harrikins. Lucy was not completely stupid, just ruthlessly pissed. Gabriel set up the fake him and gripped his blade tight as he snuck up, wary, judging Lucifer not as his elder brother but as the certifiable just deserts deserving douche. Dean Winchester was all Gabriel wished his big brother Michael could have been, what Gabriel wished he could have done in his own family but too much a coward to even try. And that...was a powerful magic all on its own. Gabriel thrust his blade down.

* * *

'Death just...GAVE me his ring. Handed it over. Isn't the dude supposed to...I don't know...HATE me for not actually dying? And he gives me a ring like I'm some blushing bride to be. Even though I'm pretty sure I'm more Maggie Carpenter staring in some real shitty sequel.'

'Maybe there was something to your amulet?' Hermione went right back to what caused them to meet, the answer to which Dean didn't know. He was still freaking out over the event, but all he got from Anthony was 'Should I be shocked? Creatures you chase and hell saving angels. He gave you a ring, not liberty or death. A ring. Allison wants to know if it's pretty.'

He snorted, cracking up into laughter. If anything, Allie being the first to joke back relieved his freak out. And worried Dean, because her next reaction usually was come over and glare at him and he'd let her do it with that adorable face. It's how wound up smelling like crappy perfume for nearly three weeks after all. The next text from Swinely led Dean to explaining the movie _Runaway Bride_. And then somewhere along the line, he got picture messages from Pitcher of his kids creating Dean-the-blushing-bride drawings beside a skeletal man with a scythe. Little shits. Dean nearly burst a gut. These were freaking hilarious.

* * *

From the corner of his eye, Sam noticed the brightly colored thing buried in the dash and took it out. It looked like a lucha libre. Ash had been dressed up like one when he and Dean had been shot right up to heaven. Sam peered closer and realized it was a flash drive. Curious, he pocketed it with the old lighter and amulet in his pocket.

After settling in the strawberry themed motel, apparently the town held the world's biggest strawberry, Sam tugged out his laptap to see what was on the flash drive. The Mexican wrestler was a sign. Everything Ash. And Dean? There were samples of hacks and Ash's notes to Dean on how to improve. A housing assistance set up? The code to have certain websites pop up on the next log in didn't surprise Sam though. There was that ridiculous Bikini Inspector badge Dean had expected Sam to use. And Sam's college grades and scholarships. Figured. For a moment Sam filtered between annoyance and warmth.

Then he clicked on the video and went blank with shock. It was all about Ash yammering on MIT, finding hunting through Dean's computer activity there, praising him for keeping an eye out on his little brother and introducing a certain website, telling him off for not telling Sam about MIT and probably all the scholarships and housing assistance he'd done, asking where the money to pay off college came from as he couldn't find any trail for it, then saluting farewell with a strong demand to talk tech next time Dean was at the Roadhouse.

"You took my advice for MIT normal and this is what—of course this is what you do," Sam huffed. Dean didn't respond, sprawled across the mattress sleeping. "Dean, you're always doing this crap. No wonder I never got mailed about anything. Big brother stepped in."

Sam stilled, voice serious. "Dean, you can't do that this time. It's up to me. I have to do this. You believe in me enough to support me in school growing up."

 _Dean grinned, proud of how well his little brother blew the other second graders out of the water._

 _Sam preferred knowing to not knowing and freaking out, so Dean would tell him about different supernatural creatures in a sort of big kid bedtime story._

 _Dean's voice rose hysterically. "He's a smart kid and no one else takes the time or gets the time to see that!"_

"You made sure I had support..."

 _Dean and Dad and Uncle Bobby all here. All his family, gathered together for his important soccer match, cheering him on with the other families of his teammates. Just like Dean promised him he would do for the division game._

"...Even when Dad didn't give it, like a parent should..."

 _Dean promised he'd never leave Sam defenseless nor with weapons he couldn't use. His brother dug out a manual for gun basics and said he'd teach Sam. It set Sam's nerves at ease more than Dad's offhand giveaway and he gave another hug, a tight hug, so Dean knew._

"...Always giving."

 _Dean smirked across the table at him, winking, and Sam hurried to hide the evidence back into his pocket, grasping Dean's favorite lighter tightly as he smiled. Perfect. That Independence Day had been and always would be perfect._

 _He put Dean's old favorite lighter back into his pocket and wished this wasn't how his family was and his brother had taken the chance to get out. But it seemed unlikely._

"How can I not stick around and make sure you're safe? Keep an eye on your annoying ass. You think joking around and stupid quips covers up any issue."

 _Dean whooped loudly as the tape hit 'Back in Black'. Sam, amused, teased and ribbed him._

 _"Yeah. You get them geek boy."_

 _"Jerk. Of course I will."_

 _Dean grinned and annoyingly messed up Sam's hair again. Complete jerk._

 _"You're totally smart Dean! But…you deserve better too...because, because you do everything for me and Dad."_

 _Dean fell silent, then ruffled his little brother's hair._

 _"I got better. I got you Sammy."_

"But you." Sam stared at Dean sleeping still as he talked. "Yeah, I'm not as strong as you, but you believe in me growing up, that's where I found strength to tell Dad to shove off and go to Stanford. You freaking idiot. You do everything for me, give and sacrifice everything. I don't want to disappoint your belief and sacrifices for me. But damn it Dean, Gabriel had a point."

 _Without Dad, without a little brother, Dean could have a life. But Sam wasn't smart enough to realize his demand destroyed Dean's life until after Dean absolutely refused. The tears came faster at seeing how Dean preferred to die at his hands. And how quickly his big brother accepted it._

Dean peacefully resting on the bed blurred. Sam swiped at his face, trying to keep his shaky breaths quiet.

 _His fists clenched as Dean went on about him not handling his new schoolyard bully. He hated when Dean got like this, like Dean didn't trust him to deal or not deal with it, stepping in and making it even worse._

"We can't let go. And you're going to have to about this. You're not going to like it, but Dean, you have to see reason and trust me when I tell you. You can't try to get me out of that cage. You've saved my life over and over. You're my big brother." Sam choked out a laugh. "My big brother. I never really grew out of that pride on you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I don't care what it takes, but I will do this. But you... You raised me, made me believe more out of myself, took care of things I never worried about at the time. There's nothing left for you to do for me, hell, you even erased all my loans. I want _you_ to have a life Dean. Please. Let me do this. Let me go and live."

For the longest time, Sam sat there, silently pleading and soaking in the sight of his big brother. He wanted to keep that image in his mind. Of Dean. Dean with no worries. Go to Lucifer filled with grins and smirks and proud green eyes. Feeling hugs and tussles in the dirt and ruffled hair. Hearing whoops of joy and gears rumbling and classic rock and late night stories and gun shots and cursing. Sam gathered up his items and headed out to the Impala. Taking in the sight, his fingers drifting across it in a way Dean was more likely to do. He felt a wave of safe protective warmth rising up from the hood. Home. For the last time, Sam stretched out inside the Impala, planning to sleep before everything.

But first, and for the first time, he talked to the vehicle. "Hey baby."


End file.
